


This Love

by FireflysLove



Series: Lipstick, a Shield, and a Metal Arm [1]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Barnes Family, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bisexual Steve Rogers, F/M, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Multi, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Sexism, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Steve didn't die in the plane crash, and Bucky didn't die from the fall, and Peggy is a badass, peggy is a bamf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-06 16:16:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 22,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3140735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireflysLove/pseuds/FireflysLove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Started from these two posts on Tumblr and a conversation with my enabler:</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <i>I now am probably going to be writing a world where Peggy and Steve are the power couple of the 1940s, Bucky either didn’t fall from the train or was discovered by the SSR, and it’s a happy peppy OT3 kicking ass, taking no one’s shit, and founding SHIELD.</i></p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <i>Oh man, but Peggy works in the SSR office, and gets all this misogynistic bullshit, and then Steve finds out about it, and comes in, and everyone’s terrified of him, so they let Peggy answer the phone one day, but send three men on the same mission, and they all turn up unconscious in a dumpster while she’s back at her desk filing her nails with the object sitting in front of her, and Steve’s just like “Look at my badass wife, you’d better respect her.”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Stork Club

**Author's Note:**

> Agent Carter has made an inferno out of my already bright Peggy flame, and I wanted something that wasn't as sad as Maybe Baby (where Peggy is the Winter Soldier), and _certain unnamed people_ from Tumblr are enablers. The same way I got Snow Outside started.

_May 4, 1945_

 

“I’ve gotta put her in the water,” Steve says.

“Please,” Peggy pleads, “don’t do this. We have time. We can work it out!”

“Right now, I’m in the middle of nowhere. If I wait much longer a lot of people are gonna die,” Steve replies, his voice sounding resigned.

Peggy can feel her heart ripping itself apart.

“Peggy, this is my choice,” he says.

She closes her eyes, willing the tears not to come.

“Peggy,” he says, softer this time.

“I’m here,” she says, voice catching in her throat.

“I’m gonna need a rain check on that dance.”

“All right,” Peggy says, “A week, next Saturday, the Stork Club.”

“You got it,” Steve replies.

“Eight o’clock on the dot,” Peggy says, “Don’t you dare be late, understood?”

“You know, I still don’t know how to dance,” Steve says.

“I’ll show you how. Just be there,” Peggy replies, trying to think of that, of how Steve’s body would feel against her as they danced.

“We’ll have the band play something slow,” Steve says. “I’d hate to step on your—”

Then, static.

“Steve?” Peggy says.

 

* * *

 

_May 6, 1945_

Peggy’s considering drinking herself to sleep again when there is a pounding on her door.

She gets up, wrapping her housecoat around herself, not bothering with shoes and yanks the door open.

“What?” she barks.

“The Russians found Barnes, Agent,” the man outside says.

“They _what?_ ” she asks.

“They found him lying in the ravine. He lost lots of blood, and his left arm couldn’t be saved, but he’s alive, somehow,” he says.

“Give me five minutes,” she says.

 

Barnes is lying on a hospital cot, what remains of his left arm bound in snow-white linen.

“They told me he fell,” he says without preamble.

“He put the plane down in the North Atlantic,” Peggy says, gingerly taking a seat on the hard plastic chair next to the bed.

“Why?” Barnes asks.

“There were bombs on the plane, and no way to put it down safely,” Peggy replies.

“He always was a stubborn idiot,” Barnes says, turning his face away from her.

Peggy gives him a calculating look, then glances at the door to the room, making sure the hallway is empty.

“You loved him, didn’t you?” she asks softly.

Barnes jerks his head around. “I… what? No, of course not,” he stutters.

“Barnes… James,” Peggy says. “Loving someone isn’t something to be ashamed of. I’m fairly certain he loved you, too.”

“But he loved _you_ ,” Barnes says.

“That may be true,” Peggy says. “But Steve had a big heart, even when it wasn’t strong enough to support his spirit sometimes. There was enough room in there for both of us.”

“What do we do now?” Barnes asks.

“I don’t know,” Peggy says.

 

* * *

 

_May 8, 1945_

Peggy stands on the banks of the Thames with Stark, Barnes, and the Howling Commandoes. There are fireworks overhead. V-E Day.

Somehow it doesn’t feel right. Like something _(someone_ ) is missing.

 

* * *

 

_May 10, 1945_

Barnes goes home with a shipment of other GIs. Peggy’s on the same plane. She has somewhere to be on Saturday.

 

* * *

 

_May 12, 1945_

She puts on the red dress she wore all those years ago in that bar after Steve and the 107th had returned from the Hydra base. Her hair is curled and pinned within an inch of its life. With a final swipe of red lipstick, Peggy glances at herself in the mirror, then steps out into the Brooklyn night.

It’s not by chance she ended up in Brooklyn, of course. She’s staying at a hotel for now, the story she told the man at the front counter is that she’s waiting for her beau to come home from war. Which is, of course, not untrue.

She hails a cab easily, and if the cab driver raises an eyebrow at the posh address, he says nothing.

Peggy pays the man, then looks up at the sign of the Stork Club.

She pushes the door open, and walks up to the maître d’.

“How may I help you, ma’am?” he says, after giving her a swift glance over that she pretends not to notice.

“I’m meeting someone at 8,” Peggy replies.

“Would you like a table, or would you prefer to wait at the bar?” the man asks.

“I’ll wait at the bar, thank you,” Peggy replies.

“Very well. The coat check is on your left if you have need of it,” he says.

Peggy nods at him, then walks into the nightclub, shrugging her fur wrap higher, and ignoring the lewd glances she gets from no few male eyes in the room. She takes an empty seat at the bar, resting her bag on her lap.

“What’ll it be, ma’am?” the bartender asks her.

“Whiskey, neat,” she says. “The good stuff.” Then slides a bill to the man. “Bring me the bottle, and keep the change.”

He looks at the denomination, and gives a low whistle. “If you say so, lady.”

She glances at her watch. 7:36. Steve has 24 minutes.

34 minutes later, Peggy glances down at the bottle resting by her left hand. It’s only a third gone. She’s going to give Steve until at least halfway down the bottle.

She tries not to notice that her whiskey is a little bit salty, and her face is damp.

The next time Peggy looks at her watch, it’s 8:29, and she has now finished half the bottle. She pushes the cork into the top, and pulls her shrug up on her shoulders, preparing to leave when a heavy hand drops on her shoulder.

“Sorry I’m late,” a voice that _can’t_ exist says. “I stopped for flowers.”

“I’m hallucinating,” she breathes to herself. Peggy steels herself, then turns around to face the hallucination. Which is very, very real.

“Not quite,” Steve says. He holds out a bouquet, roses, tulips, carnations, and what looks suspiciously like a dandelion.

“Holy hell, Steve,” she blurts out.

“The North Atlantic is cold this time of year,” he says.

Steve Rogers is standing in front of her, wearing a neatly pressed dress uniform, with the same idiotic smile he was wearing when she took potshots at his shield in Stark’s bunker. And he brought her flowers.

“How am I not hallucinating?” she asks.

“I walked through Northern Canada for a few days before a few very confused moose hunters found me and brought me in,” he says.

“You put the _Valkyrie_ in the ocean,” she says.

“Yes,” he says, rather slowly. “And it was very cold. I considered staying, but I had a date to keep.”

“Damn right you did,” she says, then puts her purse down.

“Are you going to teach me how to dance, now?” he asks.

“I’m too drunk to walk straight,” she says. “Much less dance.” She pulls him down so her mouth is level with his ear. “No, I’m going to drag you back to my hotel room and convince myself that you aren’t, in fact, a hallucination.”

Steve makes a low, ragged sound.

“That’s what I thought. Now bring that bouquet, my whiskey, and carry my purse,” she says.

Steve gulps.

 

They hail a taxi, and Peggy gives the driver the address of her hotel. On the way there, she rests her head on Steve’s shoulder, which is suspiciously solid for a hallucination.

Once there, she nods at the concierge, who gives Steve a once over, then looks back at her and winks. So he can see her hallucination, too. It’s looking less and less like Steve isn’t real.

They finally reach her room, and Peggy pushes the door closed behind them. She turns and leans her shoulders against it. They stand there in silence for a few minutes, just staring at each other.

“They found Barnes,” Peggy says finally.

Steve hisses and closes his eyes. “Where is he now?”

“Somewhere in DUMBO, I expect. At least that’s what he said his plan for tonight was,” Peggy says. “I would have invited him to the Stork Club with me, but I didn’t expect you to actually show up.”

“He’s alive?” Steve breathes.

“Most of him. He lost an arm, but the rest of him is still there,” Peggy says.

“I… can you take me tomorrow?” Steve asks.

“Of course. But for now, I’m still not entirely convinced you’re real,” she says.

“Would you like to fondue?” he asks.

“That’s still just bread and cheese, Steve,” Peggy says.

“I know,” Steve says, taking a step forward.

“I’m a bit drunk,” she says, and can hear herself slurring the words.

“I realize that. And that’s why we’re not gonna _fondue_ tonight. But since I _did_ just come back from the dead, I think I’ll kiss you,” Steve says, placing a hand on either side of her head.

She’s never realized exactly how much space he takes up.

“I…I think I’d like that,” she says.

“Good,” he mutters, then tips her head up. Their height difference isn’t as much as one might expect, especially with Peggy’s heels. Their eyes are practically level, but he seems to tower over her.

He stares at her for an interminable time, and finally she reaches up, grabs him by the ears, and pulls him down. He squeaks, but kisses her just the same. It’s only their second kiss, and the first one was in the middle of a battle. She’s drunk, and he’s probably got half his mind on Barnes, but somehow it still fits. It all fits.

It just might work.


	2. Under the Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Peggy make out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well they were _supposed_ to go find Bucky this chapter, but that didn't happen. Instead, they have sex. I don't think this chapter actually merits an E rating, it's rather tame in fact, but to be on the safe side, the rating's gone up.

Peggy knew where she was when she woke up the next morning, of course. A hotel in Brooklyn. She just wasn’t completely sure why her head hurt so much and why the mattress dipped like there was something heavy on the other side. Her eyes still closed, she reaches back and feels the soft hair and firm muscle of someone’s arm.

She freezes.

The night before comes back in flashes, going to the Stork Club, drinking herself silly, a bouquet, and then kissing someone against the door. That explains the massive headache and cotton mouth, but not precisely _who_ she brought home. Taking a deep breath to steel herself, Peggy opens her eyes and twists her head back over her shoulder. Sunlight streams in, and she hisses at the brightness, but is quickly distracted by the spray of blond hair spread across the other pillow. Her throat constricts, and her first thought is _“I dragged home someone who looks like Steve? What the hell happened?_ ”

Below the mess of hair, blue eyes blink open, and the head rises to look her in the face.

“Still believe I’m a hallucination?” he asks.

She twists so her shoulders line up with her head again, then pokes him in the middle of the chest.

“What…happened last night?” she asks.

“Well, you got spectacularly drunk. You were convinced I was a hallucination, so you dragged me back here to ‘prove I wasn’t’,” Steve says.

“I… remember that much. And then kissing against the door,” Peggy puts in.

“Well, then you fell asleep on my shoulder,” he says. “So I put you into the bed. And seeing as there was no other bed…”

“You slept here, too,” Peggy finishes.

“Was that too presumptuous of me?” he asks, eyebrows furrowing.

“Steve,” Peggy says, hauling herself up into a sitting position, “I brought you back here with every intention of having sex with you last night. _You_ were the one who decided not to. Not that I’m complaining, I was rather plastered, and I’d rather remember the first time,thank you very much.”

Steve hums something that Peggy can’t quite make out, but she has a sudden more pressing need than understanding how the hot blond got in her bed. She quickly swings her legs over the edge of the bed, hissing when her feet hit the cold floor. Her slippers are just out of reach for her toes, so she hops forward quickly and lands in them. It’s then that she finally notices what she’s wearing. The dress is draped neatly over a hanger in the open wardrobe, and her stockings are right next to it. Stockings that had been attached by garters. She’s still wearing her slip, and she snatches up the robe that is hung over the bedpost as she whirls back to Steve.

“How did those,” she says, gesturing to the stockings, “get in there?”

Steve says nothing, but his crimson blush says enough.

“I’ll be back in, well, I’ll be back,” she says, and bustles out the door, down the hall, and to the shared bathroom. It is, thankfully, empty.

After taking care of her business, she sits heavily in the chair with a damp washcloth pressed across her face. Her thoughts remain incoherent, but at least the fuzz is gone from her mouth. Finally taking a deep breath, she drops the washcloth in the bin, and walks sedately back to her room. The door isn’t locked, and Peggy opens it, uncertain exactly what she expects to find.

She doesn’t expect to see the bed empty. She looks around, but there are no places a six foot tall super soldier could hide in the room. Besides, his jacket is still flung over the back of the chair. Her hands flutter for something to do, and in general she feels like a skittish filly. Not a feeling she’s well acquainted with, and not one she really wants to get to know. So she puts on lipstick. It feels like a sort of armor.

A knock on the door makes her jump, and she says “Come” before she remembers her state of undress. If it’s anyone other than Steve she’s going to be—but it is Steve, and so she relaxes.

“Sorry about that,” he says. “I wanted to be back before you, but apparently 208 had too much to drink last night and he, well, I’ll spare you the gory details.”

“It’s fine,” Peggy says.

“How are you feeling now?” he asks.

“Like shit,” she says. “But at least my mouth doesn’t taste like cotton anymore.”

“It doesn’t?” he asks, stepping into her personal space.

“No, no it doesn’t,” she says.

“Mind if I see for myself?” he asks.

“Be my guest,” she says.

This kiss is much more sedate than the one the night before. Peggy’s not wearing heels now, and Steve has to bend his neck at a rather awkward angle to kiss her, so he grasps her by the hips, and turns her around. Without breaking contact, he sits down and pulls her into his lap. This allows her to bury her hands into his hair, marveling at how soft it is. They stay like that for a while, his hands tracing her curves and dips, and hers mapping the harder planes of his chest and shoulders.

They are interrupted suddenly by a knock at the door. In surprise, they turn to look at it.

Steve is frozen beneath her, but Peggy is already in motion. She pulls the robe back up onto her shoulders, and reties the sash. “Get under the bed,” she hisses in Steve’s ear.

“ _What_?” he asks.

“I’ll tell you in a minute. Just _hide_ ,” she says. To the insistent knocking, “Just a minute.”

She grabs the top blanket from the bed and wraps it around herself as further modesty, and finally walks to the door. Pulling it open, she smiles at the man waiting outside.

“Can I help you?” she asks.

“I’m sorry to bother you, ma’am,” he says, pointedly staring at her forehead and nothing lower. “But there was a report of a man coming in here while you were in the washroom.”

“There’s no one else in here,” Peggy says smoothly.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to check for myself. Security purposes, you understand,” the man says, trying to gently push her aside and enter the room.

“As a matter of fact, I _would_ mind,” Peggy says firmly. “Any other time, perhaps, but it would not be seemly for me to be in here with you dressed as I am, no matter if you are a hotel employee or not. And aside from that, I am having some… issues that I would rather not have a strange man present for.”

“Issues?” he asks.

“Feminine issues,” Peggy says, with a quirk of her eyebrow.

The man’s eyes grow wide, and he scurries away with apologies flying from his lips. Peggy snickers as she shuts the door.

“Feminine issues you’d rather not have a man present for?” Steve asks from under the bed. “You didn’t have to lie to the poor man to get him away.”

“I didn’t lie,” she says, walking to the bed, and helping him out from under it.

“No?” he says. “Would you like me to go, then.”

“Not at all,” she says. “I said feminine issues I’d rather not have a _strange_ man present for. You, on the other hand, are a man I’m very _happy_ to have present.”

Steve sits down on the bed, and she stands in front of him. At this angle, his eyes are level with her collarbones.

“Feminine issues,” he says.

“Yes, very much so,” she replies.

His hands go to her waist, and she’s not surprised to find that they can nearly span its circumference.

“And you need some help with them?” he asks, voice suddenly gravelly.

“It would be much appreciated,” Peggy says, perhaps a bit too casually.

His right hand dips down, over her hip, to the hem of her slip and start to slide it up, but the light pressure of fingertips on the back of her knee make her jerk it forward with a giggle.

“Ticklish?” he asks.

“Shut up,” she says.

“Make me,” he challenges.

So she pushes him by the shoulders, and he falls back. It’s a no-holds barred tickle fight that has them rolling all over the bed, until somehow they have lost most of their clothes and their stomachs hurt from so much laughing. Steve suddenly freezes, eyes going wide.

“Have you never…” Peggy asks.

“Not… not all the way,” Steve gulps. “There were a few girls on the USO tour…”

“Ah, the dancing monkey suit drew them in?” Peggy asks.

“I’m not sure if it was the tights or the short shorts,” Steve says, reaching out a finger to trace the shadow under her collarbone.

“There were shorts?” Peggy asks, tipping forward toward him.

“There were shorts,” Steve confirms.

“Then they did wonders for your bum,” Peggy says.

“You’re one to talk about wonderful bums,” Steve says, pinching hers.

She squeaks, and nips at his nose for it. “Found your sea legs, have you?”

“You’re not that scary,” Steve says.

Peggy leans back, “I am terrifying. I have spent years cultivating that image.”

“Absolutely terrifying, then,” Steve says.

“I do believe you are agreeing with me just to get into my skirt,” Peggy laughs.

“And if I am?” Steve asks.

“It’s working,” Peggy says.

“Good,” Steve says, his fingers tracing lines up from her knees.

They brush against her lightly, but it still makes her gasp and curl up into him. He seems to have found his sea legs, indeed. They skitter rather clumsily across her for a few moments until she takes his wrist and directs him with her own hand. His other arm comes around her, and pulls her back into his broad chest.

She reaches behind her and takes him in her hand. A virgin she is _not_. His reaction to this is not what she expected, instead, he snaps his head forward and fastens his mouth onto her neck. She tilts her head the opposite way, and her hair drifts across her face. Without warning, he maneuvers them around so they’re face to face, and Peggy is balancing on her knees.

She presses her forehead to his, scoots forward and slowly sinks down.

“Oh god,” he mutters.

“Only Peggy,” she quips.

Steve makes no response, but chases her lips with his. She begins to move, then, slow as molasses, and he makes the most adorable whimpering noises. Not what she thought, but surprisingly fitting him.

“You know,” she says between heavy breaths. “I’ve been planning this for a while.”

“How _god_ long?” he asks.

“Oh, since you _oh_ took down that _fuck_ flag at Camp Lehigh,” Peggy says.

His hips stutter for a moment as he looks at her, “But I was tiny then.”

“It wasn’t your body I cared about,” Peggy said. “It was the person inside. Although, it’s a nice _fuck_ bonus.” She tweaks his abs.

He grabs her hips then, and uses her own momentum to speed her up, until his fingers grip tight into the flesh, probably hard enough to leave bruises, and he comes.

“Oh, god,” he says. “I’m sorry, I didn’t let you…”

“Steve,” Peggy says gently, “you still can.”

“I…can?” he asks.

“That’s why God gave us fingers, darling,” she says.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actual Bucky next chapter, I promise. And there are definitely more smooches in Steve's future.


	3. So Much Kissing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone kisses everyone. And there are accents everywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The smooching chapter has arrived! Complete with asshole concierge for your misogynistic pleasure.

“I’m going to go get something,” Peggy says, rifling through the wardrobe for a pair of stockings.

“What?” Steve asks from where he is currently disguised as a pile of blankets.

“Oh, you’ll see,” she replies.

“Does it have feet?” he asks her, head poking out of the bedclothes.

“Last time I checked,” she answers. “Are my lines straight?”

He reaches out and adjusts the left calf, then nods.

“You gonna bring it back here?” he asks.

“If I can convince the concierge at the desk that it’s my brother, then yes. I’ve hidden enough things under my bed for one day,” Peggy replies, stepping into a dress.

Without prompting, Steve zips up the back, and comes up behind her. He wraps his arms around her waist and puts his chin on top of her head.

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

“I can hardly leave your best friend out of this,” Peggy says. Steve gives an odd twitch at that, but Peggy chooses to ignore it.

She attempts to do something with her hair, but the lingering remains of her hangover cause her to wince when her arms reach over her head, so she ties a scarf over it, and pulls on shoes. Picking up her purse, she also takes sunglasses, and starts toward the door. Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she turns to glare at Steve.

“For a virgin, you had excellent aim,” she says.

“I… what?” Steve asks.

Peggy tilts her head and points to the dark mark residing a few inches under her ear. “Hand me another scarf, would you?”

He has the good idea to look sheepish as he hands it to her. She surprises him by pulling him in with it and dragging him down for a kiss. In his ear, she whispers, “Next time, aim for somewhere below the collar.”

His eyes get huge.

“Don’t do anything stupid until I get back,” she says, flouncing toward the door.

He makes a strange noise, and when she cocks her head in inquiry, he says, “The last time someone told me that, I volunteered for a science experiment.”

“Well then I will have to thank whoever said that,” Peggy says.

“You can tell him when you drag him out of whatever gutter he fell asleep in last night,” Steve says with a snort. “By the way, my response to that was ‘How could I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.’”

“He’s not the one who jumped into anti-aircraft fire. Or onto a grenade. Or rode a motorcycle straight into a HYDRA facility,” Peggy says.

“No, no he’s not. And if you could just… avoid mentioning those things to him…” Steve says, a hopeful smile on his face.

“We’ll see,” Peggy says, then turns on her heel and leaves.

 

* * *

 

Steve wasn’t quite correct, she doesn’t find Bucky in a gutter, but in a police drunk tank.

“What’s your relation, ma’am?” the officer asks her.

“He’s my brother,” Peggy says in an affected Brooklyn accent.

“He just get back?” the man asks, not unsympathetically.

“Two days ago,” Peggy says with a shake of her head. “He thinks his best friend is dead, but the guy just showed up on my front stoop!”

“Well, I won’t charge him with anything, then,” the officer says. “Just keep an eye on him for a few weeks, and try to keep the drink out of his hands.”

“I will, sir,” Peggy says.

“I’ll just get his personal effects, and he’ll be out here in a few minutes,” he says, then walks through a locked door to the cells.

Peggy looks at the fading _UNCLE SAM WANTS **YOU**_ **!** poster, and her stomach twinges a bit, but the clanking of metal behind her turns her around. One very scruffy James Barnes is standing there, squinting into the light.

“Peggy?” he asks.

“James!” she says, embracing him. In a low whisper she says, “I’m your sister, just go with it.” He gives a faint nod.

“Sorry I did that,” he says, scrubbing his hand through his hair. She tries not to stare at where is left arm used to be.

“It’s all right, James,” she says. “You just hafta come home now.”

“They’re not chargin’ me?” he asks.

“Not today,” she says.

“Thanks,” he says to the officer.

“Thank _you,_ son,” the man says.

Peggy takes Bucky by the arm and leads him out into the street. _Strange_ , she thinks, _I don’t know when I started thinking of him as ‘Bucky’._

“Not that I’m not grateful, but why are you bailing me out of the drunk tank?” he asks.

“Believe it or not, I actually like you, James,” Peggy says, her normal accent returning.

“And that’s the _only_ reason you showed up in Brooklyn at 11 am on a Sunday morning,” Bucky replies.

“I have several reasons,” Peggy says, “Not the least of which is that Stark wants to use you as a guinea pig.”

“He wants to do experiments on me,” Bucky says dubiously.

Peggy directs him down the street toward her hotel. “The details of what he wants to do are top secret, but I can tell you it involves your arm,” she says.

Bucky gives a low whistle, “If he wants t’ replace this thing, I’m not gonna argue with him.”

Peggy stops them a few blocks from her hotel. “I’m going to take you up to my room,” she says. “You can get cleaned up, shave, things like that. But to get you there, you’re going to have to be my brother again. How is your London accent?”

“Top of the day, govn’a,” Bucky says.

Peggy cringes, then says, “Perhaps it would be best if you didn’t say anything.”

Bucky wrinkles his nose at her. They’re starting forward again when a man walks by them; short, skinny, and vaguely blond. Bucky makes a strangled noise, and turns after the man, who looks back, a confused expression on his face.

Bucky’s exhale is shattered, and Peggy speaks for him, “He lost a friend who looked like you in the war.”

The man nods with understanding, “I’m sorry, sir.”

“’S not your fault,” Bucky says. “I just… have t’ get over Steve.”

The blond man tips his hat at them, and continues on.

They reach the hotel at last, and the same concierge who tried to search her room is behind the desk.

“And who would this be, Ms. Carter?” he asks primly.

“My brother, James,” Peggy says. “He just came back from the war. He was attached to my fiancé’s regiment. And as I’ve already told you, I am expecting my fiancé shortly.”

“Mr. Carter,” the man addresses Bucky. Peggy freezes up. “See that you take good care of your sister, this city is dangerous, even to those who survived the war.”

“Peggy can take good care of herself,” Bucky says. Peggy tries to keep her horror at the accent that comes out of her mouth internalized.

“I’m sure she can, but women need someone to look after them. Until her fiancé gets here, I am going to trust her safety to you,” the concierge says.

“As I said, her safety is trusted to herself, and I’ll thank you to remember that,” Bucky says.

The man starts to say something, but Peggy hurries Bucky away before he can shove his foot further down his throat. As soon as they are out of earshot, she starts laughing hysterically.

“That was the worst accent I’ve ever heard,” she gasps out.

“You try doing a Brooklyn accent hungover,” Bucky grumbles.

“How do you think I got you out of jail?” she asks.

“How much you have to drink last night?” he asks.

“Half a bottle of whiskey,” she says, reaching into her purse for her key, and unlocking her door.

He blinks stupidly at that, and then does something completely unexpected. He cups the back of her head in his hand, and shoulders the door open, pulling her with him, and then firmly pressing their mouths together. Her first reaction is not what either of them expects, she fists both hands in his hair, kissing him back vigorously, kicking the door shut behind her. They make out wildly for a few moments before she pulls back, slamming back into the wall. She stares at him, and he at her.

Their stunned silence is broken by a cough from the general direction of the chair in the corner.

“When you said you were bringing something back, I must confess, this isn’t exactly what I was expecting,” Steve drawls.

“Honestly, neither was I,” Peggy replies.

“I… you… _what the fuck?_ ” Bucky says.

“James, I believe you know Steve,” Peggy says.

“Steve... how… you _bastard_!” Bucky shouts.

Steve had risen to come forward and greet Bucky, but is knocked backward by the force of Bucky’s fist against his jaw. His backward momentum is immediately stopped by Bucky seizing a handful of his hair and pulling him down, much the same as he had just done with Peggy. Their lips crash together, and Steve waves his hands around for a moment before closing in on Bucky’s already mangled hair. A few seconds pass, and they leap apart, glancing at each other, then at Peggy, then back at each other. Bucky’s hand makes an abortive attempt to pull Steve in, but Steve’s still looking at Peggy.

“Oh, by all means, continue,” Peggy says. “I’ve been waiting for you two to do this for nearly two years.”

“Peggy’s advice is usually sound,” Steve says.

Bucky only pulls his head back down, more gently this time, and they kiss again. Steve reaches a hand out to Peggy, and when she takes it, he pulls her in, sandwiching her between their bodies. They continue to kiss slowly, but Bucky’s arm has moved from Steve’s hair to Peggy’s waist, and Steve’s arm cages her in on the other side.

Of all the ways this could have turned out, Peggy thinks this one is probably the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter... Wild hotel threesome, maybe?


	4. Sweet Like Molasses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sex and an unexpected visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been killing me slowly, and so it rather fades to black toward the end. But that only means more fun times ahead. (Including, but not limited to, Peggy and Bucky bitching about Steve, Peggy beating people up, and probably a rescue mission at some point.)

Time moves differently then, molasses slow, and just as sweet. They’re both taller than her, and when they pause for breath, Peggy finds herself staring at Bucky’s bright red, kiss-swollen lips. She licks her own, and the gesture does not go unnoticed.

Steve drops his hand from Bucky’s face, and spins her to face him, arms trapped against his chest. She forces them upwards, seizes a large handful of his hair and drags him down to her mouth. His hands slide down, and wrap around her upper thighs, then he gives a slight nudge. Peggy takes the hint and jumps, Steve lifting her onto his hips, her feet locked behind him.

Meanwhile, Bucky has untied the scarf from around her neck and brushed her hair away from her neck and as soon as Peggy is firmly settled, he attaches himself just below her ear. She jerks in surprise and nearly takes Steve’s nose out with her forehead. Steve squawks, and Peggy hears an embarrassed mutter of apology into her hair. She wrinkles her nose and laughs.

“You must be careful, James,” she says. “We don’t want to frighten the poor boy with anything too _advanced._ ”

“Advanced my ass,” Bucky says.

“Language in front of the lady, Buck,” Steve says.

“Steve, pal,” Bucky says, “If the word _ass_ offends the lady, I don’t know what she’s going to think of going all the way with two guys at once.”

“Oh, is _that_ where this is going?” Peggy asks conversationally.

“Ma’am,” Bucky says, “if I have my way, neither of you is gonna be walkin’ tomorrow.”

At this statement, Steve turns bright red.

“You think you’re up to that task?” Steve asks Bucky. He jerks slightly as Peggy fastens herself onto his trapezius muscle.

“You’re not the only one with superhuman stamina, Steve,” Bucky says, his voice losing its teasing quality.

“Buck, I…” Steve says.

“Not now, Steve, not now,” Bucky says.

“Steve,” Peggy says, trying to change the subject back to something more flirtatious, “Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

A strangled noise from behind her makes her crane her neck to look at Bucky who is doubled over with laughter. “I… I never thought I’d _actually hear_ anyone use that line in real life,” he chokes out between guffaws.

“If you must know, I’m _very_ happy to see you _both_ ,” Steve says, his voice suddenly gravelly.

“Oh, _are_ you now?” Peggy drawls. She leans back from his chest, trusting his strength to keep her up, and gets to work on the buttons of his shirt. Where he got the clothes is a mystery to her, since all he had had the night before was his dress uniform, and he’s wearing a completely different set now.

_Not for long_ she thinks.

When she reaches her own hips, she can’t unbutton any more, so she resorts to attempting to push it off his shoulders. He flexes his hands to warn her, then sets her down on the floor. She finds herself immediately attacked by three hands, all scrabbling at her clothes. The zipper on the back of her dress is yanked down, then the garment removed entirely. The treatment of her stockings is considerably gentler—both of them remember the nylon shortage of the last years. Her own hands aren’t idle, grabbing at whatever buttons she sees and undoing them, and when her clothing is finally completely removed, she dances backwards for a moment to survey the scene.

Steve stands, panting, his shirt gone, pants undone, and undershirt untucked. Bucky’s not wearing much more than his undershirt and socks. She crosses her arms over her bare chest.

“If you’re fond of any of those clothing items, you’d best remove them immediately,” she says to Steve.

He makes an abortive gesture to take off his clothes, but only looks from Bucky to her and back, eyes wide, crystal blue nearly swallowed by blown pupils.

Peggy and Bucky look at each other, nod, and step toward Steve as one. She takes his bottom half, Bucky his top. Steve sputters as cloth hits him in the face, and then makes a sound like the air’s been punched out of him as Peggy’s hand brushes his cock while she removes the offending garments. He stops making noises when Bucky reclaims his lips, and struggles not to break contact as he steps out of his pants.

Peggy grabs Bucky’s shoulder and turns him toward her, kissing him intently. She is determined that all three of them will be involved _equally_. Steve might draw them together, but if this is going to turn into anything more _permanent_ , she and Bucky are going to have to find their common ground.

Steve’s hands run over both of them, tracing Bucky’s harder lines and her softer curves. Not that she’s particularly soft, compared to most women, but she wasn’t quite as hardened by the war as Steve and Bucky were. A few minutes later, Bucky breaks the kiss to chase his lips down her jaw and throat, and apparently catches a glimpse of Steve out of the corner of his eye.

He stops, his hand resting lightly on Peggy’s breast, and turns to look at Steve, his eyes huge.

“What?” Steve asks.

“I mean, I knew they… you… bigger… but I didn’t know…you…like…that… _holy shit,_ Steve,” he splutters.

“Wanna touch it?” Steve asks. “Everyone seems to want to touch it.” He levels a look at Peggy.

“It was _one time_ ,” Peggy says exasperatedly.

“What was one time?” Bucky asks, still staring at Steve’s chest.

“When he stepped out of the Vita-ray machine, I touched him,” Peggy says. “Like this.” She demonstrates, although the significant lack of clothes on all their parts gives a distinctly different connotation to the motion.

Bucky takes his hand from Peggy’s chest and moves it to Steve’s, brushing his hand lightly over the soft skin, then poking him right in the middle of the chest.

“It’s ridiculous,” he says finally.

“I know,” Steve says. “But at least it’s functional.”

“Functional?” Bucky asks.

Instead of replying, Steve merely snatches Bucky up off the ground, and flings them both in the direction of the bed. They land with an impressive bounce that nearly sends Bucky off the other side.

Peggy follows them at a more sedate pace, then perches on the edge of the mattress, watching them roll back and forth as they kiss hungrily. Sometime later, Steve notices her absence, and when they roll close to her, he grabs her by the wrist and pulls her in. She’s immediately overwhelmed by the sudden input of sensation. They’re _everywhere._

She doesn’t know who is kissing her, whose fingers are sliding down her side, whose cock rests heavy against her thigh.

“Wait,” she breathes between kisses.

They don’t seem to hear her. Peggy reaches up and grabs a handful of each head of hair, and repeats, “ _Wait._ Slow down.”

“You don’t want…” Steve asks, apparently the one who had been kissing her.

“I _do_ want, I just want to know what’s happening,” she says, ruffling his hair.

“Let’s see if you can keep track of _this_ ,” Bucky says, then plants his hand in the middle of her chest, pushing her back firmly into Steve’s body. He moves so her heels rest in the center of his back and her knees are slung over his shoulders.

After that things distort again, and she’s aware of more sensations than anything else. Hands, other things, the broad expanse of both of their chests as they wrap around her.

When she falls over the edge, it takes her by surprise.

They end up collapsed in a heap of sticky, sweaty limbs. Peggy’s head is resting on Steve’s shoulder, and her legs are tangled in Bucky’s. None of them says anything for a long while.

“Well that wasn’t quite what I expected when I woke up this mornin’,” Bucky says.

“Me neither,” Steve sighs in agreement.

Peggy says nothing until Steve ruffles her hair and twists his head to turn it at her inquisitively.

“I… was… well,” Peggy says. “I wasn’t ruling out the possibility when I bailed James out of jail this morning.”

“You weren’t?” Bucky asks her.

“Do you remember the conversation we had in Paris the day they brought you in?” she asks him.

“Paris? I don’t… _oh,_ ” Bucky says. “You still think that’s true?”

“You don’t?” Peggy asks. “Even now?”

“I…I don’t know,” he says.

“Would one of you tell me what you’re talking about?” Steve says.

“Do you—,” Bucky starts, but is interrupted by a knock at the door.

They all freeze.

“Under the bed,” Steve hisses at Bucky.

“You!” Bucky hisses back.

“Both of you!” Peggy interrupts.

She gets up as another knock sounds, throws her housecoat on, and tries to make the explosion of clothing on the floor look less masculine. When she gets to the door, she opens it with the chain still on, and peeks out. The concierge from the night before is standing outside looking nervous.

“Ma’am,” he says when he sees her. “There’s a man downstairs asking after you. He says his name is Colonel Phillips.”

Peggy’s stomach twists itself into knots and her heart rises into her throat.

“Tell him… tell him I will be down in a few moments to talk to him,” Peggy says, then shuts the door.

She turns back to see two heads poking above the mattress.

“I’m going to go talk to him. You two get as decent as you can, and do _try_ to look less like you want to repeat that,” Peggy says.

“But I _do_ want to repeat that,” Steve says.

“Not right now, Steve,” Peggy chides.

“So that’s gonna happen again?” Bucky asks, his expression bright, something she’s not used to seeing on his face.

She nods, and goes to the wardrobe. Pulling on her second outfit of the day, she turns to retrieve her shoes from wherever they had landed.

“James,” she says, reaching under the chair for the left shoe, “by the way, I  _do_ find walking difficult."

"It was my  _pleasure_ ma'am," Bucky says, a lewd expression on his face.

"Why don’t you tell Steve about that conversation we had in Paris while I take care of Col. Phillips?" she says, tossing him a saucy grin.

Bucky shoots her a dark look, and turns back to Steve, who has a confused expression on his pretty face.

“Well, y’ see, I was wandering around Russia…” he starts.

Peggy doesn’t hear the rest of the conversation, her mind occupied with just _what_ Col. Phillips might want from her. And her stomach takes that opportunity to growl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FWIW, Col. Phillips is incredibly amusing to write....


	5. Welcome Home, Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A heart-to-heart, and a (very loud) reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty sure I made up two of Bucky's sisters.
> 
> Also, I totally stole Steve's confession from that post on Tumblr.

Peggy takes a deep breath and steels herself before she rounds the corner into the lobby. Col. Phillips is, indeed, standing by the desk, looking distinctly uncomfortable. He must hear the click of her heels on the tiled floor, because he turns to see her.

“Agent Carter,” he says by way of greeting.

“Sir,” she replies.

“You might find it interesting to know that yesterday morning, Steven Rogers showed up at an Army base in Plattsburgh, New York. He scared the life out of some poor corporal, handed him this file, and said he was leaving for New York City,” Phillips says.

“That’s…interesting, sir,” she says.

“Now, you wouldn’t have happened to _see_ Captain Rogers, would you?” Phillips asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, sir, you see,” Peggy says, chewing nervously on her lip.

“Because I need to debrief him before he goes gallivanting around the city,” Phillips says. “If he were to, say, report to a diner a few blocks away in about an hour, there might not even be any consequences…”

“I’ll…” Peggy starts.

“See that he does, Agent,” Phillips says, turning and leaving. Peggy stares at the back of his retreating head for a few moments, very confused by what just happened.

Shaking her head, she returns to the room, where her boys are mostly dressed.

“What did he want?” is the first thing out of Steve’s mouth.

“To debrief you. In an hour, meet him in the diner a few blocks over,” she says, sitting down.

“That’s it?” he asks.

“I believe he doesn’t want to court martial Captain America for going AWOL,” she says, looking up at him.

“I… alright,” he sighs. “I should probably do something with my hair.”

“There’s Brylcreem in the valise,” she says, gesturing to the black bag sitting on the dresser.

“What’re you two going to do?” he asks, retrieving the Brylcreme and a comb.

Peggy shrugs, but Bucky speaks from his position on the bed.

“I was plannin’ on going home,” he says. “Haven’t seen them in nearly two years.” He laughs. “I wonder if Becca is taller than me yet.”

“She was taller ’n me last time I saw her,” Steve says.

“Steve, half of Brooklyn was taller than you,” Bucky says back.

“Becca?” Peggy asks.

“My sister,” Bucky says. “Well, one of them anyway. There’re four of us. I’m the oldest, then Helen, Georgia, and Rebecca. Becca’s eight years younger than me. Surprise baby, apparently. From what I remember, Georgie was a terror as a toddler, and my parents swore off any more after her. Luckily, for everyone, Bec’s an angel.”

Steve snorts at that.

“What?” Bucky asks.

“Never told you about the time I caught her necking Nelson Grimes in the alley, did I?” Steve says too innocently, straightening his tie.

“ _No_ ,” Bucky says, his voice dangerous.

“Wasn’t anythin’ serious,” Steve says. “But I did put the fear of God in that boy.”

He looks over his shoulder at them, and Peggy furrows her eyebrows.

“Said I’d tell the priest,” Steve clarifies.

“You _didn’t_ ,” Bucky breathes.

“I didn’t, but did you ever see Nelson sneaking around again?” Steve asks.

“Father Julius was absolutely terrifying,” Bucky says to Peggy.

“And when you’re a 15 year old boy with designs on a pretty girl, and he finds out, well…” Bucky says.

“You sound like you speak from experience,” Peggy observes dryly.

Bucky only shudders.

“Of course, confession becomes miserable when you realize you’re in love with your best friend,” Steve says, staring pointedly at the mirror.

Bucky’s head snaps around. “You…”

Steve sighs heavily, and turns to face him, “Yeah. It’s been a long time. Probably as long as I can remember, although I didn’t realize it until about Daisy Martin.”

“Daisy Martin?” Bucky asks. “I was 16, Steve.”

Steve shrugs. “It’s not like I was going to tell my best friend that I was a fairy and in love with him. Besides, I still liked girls, and I figured I’d get over it eventually. Actually… well, never mind.”

“What?” Peggy and Bucky ask together.

“Well… y’know they say homosexuals got a sickness,” Steve says, his Brooklyn accent becoming thicker with emotion.

Bucky says nothing, so Peggy makes an encouraging noise.

“So I figured there was somethin’ else wrong with me, somethin’ wrong in the head,” Steve says. “And then… well, after the Serum, it was still there. I wasn’t sure until Azzano, but it was definitely still there.”

“You…” Bucky starts, but Peggy interrupts him, though regretfully.

“Steve, you have to go meet Phillips now, or bad things are going to happen,” she says.

“I… alright,” Steve says with a sigh.

He goes to the door, and as his hand touches the handle, Bucky murmurs something. It’s too low for Peggy to hear, but apparently Steve’s enhanced hearing picks it up loud and clear. He inhales sharply, takes four large strides across the room, seizes Bucky by the shoulders, and kisses him firmly.

“Later,” he says, saying it like a promise made on his mother’s grave.

He turns to leave again, but hesitates for a moment, then kisses Peggy too. Gentler, but it still makes her squeak.

 

* * *

 

“Stopped a bunch of guys from beatin’ Steve up in that alley,” Bucky says, gesturing as they walk toward his childhood home. “And that one, and behind that dumpster.”

Peggy snorts.

“What?” Bucky asks.

“Nothing,” Peggy says, shaking her head.

Suddenly he stops, and stares at the stoop in front of him.

“This is it,” he says. “It’s home, but it doesn’t feel like it. I haven’t lived here in more ’n six years… After that, home was always where Steve was…”

Peggy looks up at the brick building before her, and her eyes widen when she sees what adorns the flowerbox.

“James…” she says. “I forgot… They sent out your letter before the Russians found you.”

“My letter?” he asks, but sees exactly what she saw. Black bunting next to the red, white, and blue on the awning and flowerbox. “Shit,” he says.

“Shit,” she agrees.

She stands at the bottom of the steps as he ascends them slowly, then knocks on the door. There are sounds from inside, feminine voices shouting at each other, then the door is yanked open to reveal a pretty young woman. Peggy can see the family resemblance immediately. The girl is tall, dark haired, blue-eyed, with the same pouty lips and dip in her chin.

“Hi, Bex,” Bucky says weakly.

The girl, presumably Rebecca stares at him stupidly for a moment, her jaw dropping open, before she flings herself into his chest, sobbing loudly. He wraps his arm around her, patting her back.

“Becca, it’s alright,” he says.

“I know,” she sniffs, “it’s just… we got the letter yesterday… mom’s upstairs… oh, God, Bucky.”

“It seems we were a bit premature in our posting,” Peggy says from the sidewalk.

“Who are you?” Rebecca asks.

“Peggy Carter,” Peggy says, then comes up the stairs to offer her hand to the girl.

“Rebecca Barnes,” she says. “You Bucky’s girl?”

“If Peggy’s anybody’s girl, she’s Steve’s,” Bucky says.

“Steve? Steve made it through, too?” Rebecca asks, head swiveling to look at Bucky.

“That’s a really long story, Bex,” Bucky says.

“Yes, of course,” Rebecca says. “Come inside. I just… I just made cookies.”

Bucky steps inside, Peggy close behind him. She shuts the door.

“Who was it, Becca?” a voice calls from the kitchen.

“Why don’t you come out here and find out, Georgie?” Rebecca replies.

“I’m up to my elbows in flour, and you want me to…” the woman emerges from the kitchen, indeed dusted in flour. “Oh.”

“Georgie,” Bucky says, a smirk settling in on his face.

“Helen! Richard! Dad!” Georgia yells over her shoulder.

“Stop yelling, Georgia!” a male voice shouts from upstairs.

“Your only son just came back from the dead,” Georgia shouts back, “I’ll yell as much as I damn well please.”

“What?!”

Peggy suddenly finds herself in a room full of shouting Barneses, unsure of what to do. Rebecca eases around the clock and comes to stand next to her. Bucky has been pulled into a vortex of vociferous brunettes.

“It’s a lot to handle,” Rebecca observes dryly.

“It’s… certainly more than I was expecting,” Peggy says.

“Peggy, you said?” Rebecca asks. At Peggy’s nod she continues, “Steve is really all right?”

“He is. He’s different now,” Peggy says. “Any more than that, I’m going to let James explain.”

“James,” Rebecca says with a snicker. “No one calls him James but Grandma and the priest.”

The noise suddenly disappears as a woman makes her way down the stairs. “What on God’s green earth is going on down here?” she asks.

Five voices rise in reply, but silence with a steely glare.

“You all know damn well what you’re preparing for,” she growls.

“Winnie,” the older man, Bucky’s father, starts.

“What?” she barks.

“Hi, Ma,” Bucky says, with the same sheepish wave he gave Rebecca at the door.

She inhales sharply, and then collapses. The other man in the room, presumably Helen or Georgia’s husband, catches her before she can tumble down the stairs. They set her at the table, and Helen produces smelling salts from a pocket.

“I…” Bucky’s mother says. “Bucky?” Her eyes blink open and settle on her son’s face, then she shakes her head, as if to clear a vision.

“I’m real, Ma,” Bucky says, putting his hand on her shoulder.

“Oh, Bucky, your arm,” his mother sighs.

Bucky chuckles. “Of course that’s what you’d notice. I’m assured I can get a first rate new one.”

“Assured by who?” his father asks.

“Me, sir,” Peggy says from the doorway.

“And you are…?” he says, as if she has no right to be there.

She straightens, tugs down her jacket, and offers a hand, “Agent Peggy Carter, sir.”

“Agent of _what_?” he asks, shaking her hand warily.

“The Strategic Scientific Reserve,” Peggy says smoothly. “The research department of the Army.”

“The American Army,” he says, a statement.

“Yes,” she replies.

“Damn scientists,” he mutters, then turns back to Winnie.

Peggy tries not to take offense at this, but apparently Bucky takes it for her.

“Peggy’s part of the reason I’m still alive,” he says stiffly. “If she hadn’t been a part of a certain project, I likely would have died on an experiment table in Italy.”

“What project?” Bucky’s father asks.

“The project that turned Steve Rogers into Captain America,” Bucky says.

And if Peggy had thought that the first round of yelling was loud, it was like feathers on snow compared to the noise that erupted at this statement. 


	6. Mother Like Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More of the Barneses, plus Steve has someone he wants Peggy to meet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well then. I wasn't expecting the end of this to go the way it did. (It has a mind of its own!)
> 
> And there will be more Barneses in the future. Because they're incredibly fun to write. (Just wait 'til you meet Bucky's grandmother)

It’s nearly an hour later that everyone’s finally calmed down enough to sit at the kitchen table and talk like rational adults. Peggy had been hastily introduced before the family returned to grilling Bucky. She’s sitting on a stool at the counter, Rebecca beside her. The girl has a baby on her lap, Helen and Richard’s son, six months old, and woken up by the shouting. Peggy’s only heard him called Toad and she’s relatively certain that’s not his formal name. Bucky’s currently recounting an incident in Austria, and Peggy notices he leaves out some key details. (Mostly ones involving certain _ladies_.)

A knock at the door goes unheard by the occupants of the table, and Rebecca sighs gustily as she rises to get it. Shifting Toad’s weight to her hip, she saunters out into the entrance, and pulls open the door.

At the sight of the person on the other side, all she can articulate is “Holy shit.”

Apparently her mother hears _that_ despite the conversation, and rebukes her, “Rebecca Louise Barnes, you watch your mouth. Especially holding a baby.”

“Mom,” comes Rebecca’s reply. “I think you should come here.”

It’s all Peggy can do not to burst into laughter. Bucky’s story has stopped by this point, and while everyone else leans to look around the wall, he looks to Peggy. His hand goes to his shoulder and then moves out, his left eyebrow raised. She nods, covering her mouth with a hand in further attempts to stifle the giggles.

When Rebecca and Toad come back into the room, she’s dragging Steve behind her. He looks appropriately sheepish.

“I brought cookies…” he says.

“Steven Rogers,” Winifred says, “You disappear for _two years_ , then show up nearly twice your former size, with _cookies._ ”

“They’re chocolate chip?” he says doubtfully.

“You could have at least sprung for scones,” Bucky says, unhelpfully.

“I want to see you buy a bunch of scones in front of Col. Phillips,” Steve says.

“Next time I see him I’ll take you up on that,” Bucky quips back.

“Boys,” Winifred cautions.

Bucky makes a face at her, and his father cuffs him on the back of the head for it.

The sea of questions returns, this time directed at Steve. Peggy retrieves a pair of cookies, and returns to the stool. She offers one to Rebecca, who takes it, and chews on it thoughtfully.

“You really get them both, don’t you?” she asks.

“Hmm?” Peggy says.

“Steve and Bucky. You understand them,” Rebecca clarifies.

Peggy considers for a moment. “Steve and I are a lot alike, and I understand a lot of his frustrations,” she says finally. “James is a different story. I like him, but I don’t always understand why he does something.”

“Steve,” Rebecca says simply.

“What?” Peggy asks.

“Steve. For as long as I’ve been alive, nearly everything my brother has done has been, at least in part, about what would be best for Steven Rogers,” Rebecca says.

“Huh,” Peggy says. “You know, Rebecca, you’re very wise for your age.”

Rebecca shrugs. “I spent a lot of time with my grandmother.”

The questions being pelted at Steve have finally slowed enough for him to actually answer them. This, of course was the moment that Toad decided to start crying. Everyone in the room turns to look at him.

“Oh,” Helen says. “Let me take him, Becca. He’s due for a feeding anyway.”

“You have a baby?” Steve asks her.

“Oh dear,” Helen says. “I completely forgot. Yes, this is my son Thomas. I believe you know Richard?”

Steve nods, and Helen disappears upstairs with the baby.

“Any other shocking news you have to drop on us, son?” Mr. Barnes asks Bucky.

“Don’t think so,” Bucky says.

“Good,” Winifred says. “I don’t think my heart can handle anymore.”

“So, what are your plans for the future?” Winifred asks Steve. Mr. Barnes seems to take this as his signal to escape from the conversation.

“Er, I don’t really know,” Steve says.

“Are you going to settle down with a nice girl? I’m sure you could catch a very nice one,” she continues. “Georgia’s always talking about how many girls are just waiting for young men to get back from the war. She’s waiting herself.

Bucky, who is sitting behind Winifred’s back, glances at Peggy, his eyebrow raising.

“I… well, I…” Steve blusters. “I’m still not very good with women. I really only know one very well. Aside from your daughters, of course. But they’re like sisters, so it doesn’t really count.”

That’s when Peggy realizes that Steve doesn’t know she’s there, as she’s been at the back of all the commotion, and now Steve is sitting in front of her.

“Mom, stop it!” Georgia hisses to her mother.

“Georgia, with that attitude, you’ll never land yourself a young man like Steve,” Winifred says.

“I’ve told you a hundred times, Mom. I don’t _want_ a young man,” Georgia says.

“Well you’ll never get one if you spend all your time with that Wendy girl,” Winifred says primly. “So, Steve. Tell us, who is this woman you know so well?”

Bucky slaps his hand over his face. Before Steve can answer, he interjects, “Ma!”

“What, Bucky?” Winifred says.

Peggy coughs discreetly. Steve whips around, and she wiggles her fingers at him.

“Steve,” Bucky says. “I want to go to the storage place and see what we can do with all the stuff from the apartment.”

“We don’t even have a place to live yet, Buck,” Steve says, not quite whining. “And… I have something that I want to do.

“Well, I’m gonna go. There’re a few things I want,” Bucky says. “Anything you want?”

Steve shakes his head.

They say their goodbyes, with promises to return soon. Back on the sidewalk, Bucky takes his leave of Peggy and Steve to go to their former apartment. Peggy starts to walk back toward the hotel, but Steve stops her.

“There’s someone I want you to meet,” he says.

 

* * *

 

“Hi, Mom,” Steve says softly. He’s sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of a headstone, Peggy standing behind him. “I know it’s been a while, but I’ve been away. Well, I’ve been at war. A lot in my life has changed, some good, some bad. But more good. I won’t bother you with the bad. You’ve had enough of that in your life from me.” He laughs wryly here. “I’m happy, now, Mom. A lot happier than I think I’ve ever been.” He stands up, and reaches for Peggy’s hand. She takes it. “This is Peggy. I met her a few years ago, and she liked me even when I was small. You always said it was going to take a strong woman to love me. Of course, you never did count on Bucky to love me too. But I think she does. Love me that is. And I love her. In fact, if she’ll have me, I’d like to spend the rest of my life with her.” He looks down at Peggy with eyes shimmering with tears. She can’t tell if they’re happy or sad. Or both.

“Are you proposing to me?” she asks.

He nods solemnly.

She sighs, “Steve, it’s been a very long day. A _very_ long day.” It’s dark now, the cemetery lit by only a few lights.

“Are you sayin’ no?” he asks, voice a ragged whisper.

“No,” Peggy says. “I’m not saying no. But that doesn’t mean I’m saying yes. Not yet, anyway. I need some time to think. We _just_ got home from war. And I think we need to talk about… whatever this is with the three of us.”

Even in the dim light, she can see Steve’s dejected expression.

“Hey,” she says softly, hand resting on his cheek. “Ask me again in a month.”

He nods, and wipes his thumb across his eyes. “Let’s go back,” he says finally.

“You go get a cab,” she says. “I want to talk to your mother alone for a bit.”

He walks off.

“I’m truly sorry that had to happen here, Sarah,” Peggy says to the headstone. “I do intend to marry him. But I don’t want to do it just because he thinks it needs to happen right now. And there’s Bucky to consider. He loves Steve too, and I think the three of us could have something…” She trails off, pausing to gather her thoughts. “You raised a good boy, Sarah. I thank you for him, and I’ll try to take care of him and make him happy. I think I would have liked you, from what Steve has told me about you. You were his first love, you know. And I think you’d be proud of the man your boy has become.”

She looks up at the sky. A shooting star crosses the open space between the trees. Peggy smiles.


	7. It's Not Done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sex and discussions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in less than a day? It's a snow day miracle!

Peggy wakes early. She’s still on Europe time, and despite the long day she had had the day before, she didn’t get as much sleep as she would have liked. Outside, Brooklyn is yellow with the first light of the day. She extracts herself from the bedsheets and other occupants, tugs a dressing gown around herself, and walks to the window. It doesn’t seem like they were at war two weeks ago. Those years of her life seem distant compared with the last two days. A new chapter, then.

She gets a pang of homesickness then. It’s been almost six years since she’s been home, seen her brother, visited her grandparents. She makes a decision then, and dresses quickly. Writing a quick note and leaving it between the sleeping heads in the bed, she slips out of the room.

When she makes it down to the lobby, she’s glad to see that the friendly concierge is still on duty. He smiles up at her as she walks past him.

“Good morning, ma’am,” he says.

“Good morning. Do you have a telephone I could use to make a call?” she asks.

“It’s right over there. Just so you know, any fees you incur will be billed to your room at the time of checkout,” he says helpfully.

“Thank you,” she says, and walks to the phone and its chair.

She dials the operator, and asks for a transatlantic call. It takes nearly 10 minutes before the final connection is made, and she can hear the phone picked up on the other end.

“Hello, Carter residence,” a familiar voice on the other end says.

“Hi, Harry,” Peggy says,

“Peggy?” her brother asks. “Dear lord, we thought you’d gone in the war.”

“Not quite,” she says. “They did try a few times, but nothing permanent.”

“What in the world are you doing in Brooklyn?” he asks.

“Now _that_ is a very long story,” Peggy says.

“I’ve got nothing to do for a while,” Harry says.

“Now, you know I joined the SSR,” Peggy says.

 

* * *

 

She talks with Harrison for nearly an hour before he has to go, and she gets most of the story out. Excepting the more recent developments. Peggy hangs the phone up, and smiles again at the concierge before returning to her room. As she approaches the door, she can hear muffled sounds coming from inside. Opening the door slowly and quietly, she ghosts inside. The sight that greets her is not something that surprises her.

The light streaming in through the window is stronger now, and glistens off the skin on Bucky’s back as he moves. Neither he nor Steve notice her entrance, and she doesn’t alert them to it as she removes her shoes and sits in the chair quietly.

Their motion is rhythmic, and Peggy finds her heartbeat fall into sync with the motion of Bucky’s hips. Steve’s ankles are crossed over the smaller man’s lower back, and they’re staring into each other’s eyes like nothing else in the world exists. The muscles in Bucky’s arm tremble as he holds himself up over Steve, but he doesn’t fall. After a time, the rhythm falters, and Steve’s calves tighten around Bucky’s torso, his head tossed back with ecstasy. Bucky takes the opportunity to sink his teeth into the column of Steve’s throat, then moans his name low and soft before collapsing on top of him.

A few minutes pass, in which Peggy tries not to shift with the discomfort her own unattended arousal has caused.

Steve starts to laugh. “Y’know, Buck,” he says. “I shoulda told you something years ago.”

“I probably woulda punched ya for suggestin’ it,” Bucky says.

“And with the walls of the apartment as thin as they were,” Steve says.

“It woulda just been a bad idea all around,” Bucky finishes.

Steve starts to say something else, but something catches his eyes or his ears, and he turns his head to look at Peggy.

“They were paper thin,” he says.

“Oh, I believe you,” she says.

Bucky jumps at the sound of her voice, and turns his own head over. “How long you been there?”

“A while,” Peggy says.

“Where’d you go?” Steve asks.

“To call my brother,” she says.

“You have a brother?” Bucky says incredulously.

“His name’s Harrison,” she says. “He was very surprised to hear from me.”

“So we’re not the only ones who died in the war, then?” Steve says.

“Apparently not,” she says.

They sit there in silence for a time, until Steve breaks the silence.

“I’m hungry,” he says.

“You two get cleaned up, then we’ll go get food,” Peggy says.

 

* * *

 

Hours later, Steve tells them that Col. Phillips wanted to meet him again today to get him to sign a few things, so he has to go out again, but will be back before dinner.

That leaves Peggy and Bucky alone in the room for a time. They sit in companionable silence, him reading and her writing reports.

Finally, he looks up at her and asks, “What are you going to do with me?”

“Huh?” Peggy says stupidly.

“You and Steve. What are you going to do with me?” he repeats.

“What do you mean?” Peggy asks, putting her pen down.

“It’s pretty obvious that you two are going to get married eventually. I’ve just been wondering where you want me,” he asks.

Peggy laughs dryly at that, “If it were up to Steve, we’d probably go to the church tomorrow and get married. He proposed to me last night at his mother’s grave.”

“He did _what_?” Bucky asks incredulously.

“I told him to ask me again in a month. Partially because I’m just not ready to say yes right now, and also because I want to know where you stand on the subject,” she says.

“I’d rather not go back to pinin’ after Steve,” Bucky says.

“In a perfect world, we could be completely transparent, but that’s not possible,” Peggy says. “But I have an idea, and if you two both agree to it, I think it would work.”

“And what’s that?” Bucky asks.

“Officially, Steve and I will be married, and you’ll be his bachelor best friend who happens to be our roommate, but privately…” she says.

Before Bucky can respond, the door opens and Steve comes back in.

“That concierge gave me a nasty look,” he says, taking off his hat and jacket. “We need to find somewhere else to stay for the long term.”

Peggy and Bucky exchange a look, then look at Steve.

“What?” he says defensively.

“We were just talking about that,” Peggy says. “What do _you_ want out of this relationship?”

“If I could have everythin’, I’d have both of you, but that’s not possible, and I really don’t want to choose,” Steve says, eyes crinkling uncomfortably.

“Why d’you think you’ve gotta choose, Stevie?” Bucky asks.

“Because…you…two wouldn’t… We can’t… I…” Steve says.

“Why not?” Peggy says.

“It’s just not done,” Steve says.

At this, Bucky bursts into laughter. “Steve,” he says, wiping tears from his eyes, “Do you remember Tim, Olive, and Hattie?”

“Well yes, but what have they got to do with… They were all _together_?” Steve asks.

“I’d bet good money on it,” Bucky says. “Olive and Hattie were no more sisters than you and I are.”

“So what are you sayin’?” Steve asks.

“That you and I get married, and Bucky’s our bachelor roommate. He’d have to go out a couple times a month to maintain the charade… but I think we could make it work,” Peggy says.

“And you’re both on board with this,” Steve says.

Peggy looks at Bucky, who nods, then turns to Steve and says, “Yes, I think we are.”

“I… don’t know what to say,” Steve says.

“Then say yes,” Peggy says, rising to kiss him.

“Yes,” Steve says, bending down to meet her.

When she leans back, her head hits Bucky’s shoulder, and she tilts it up toward him. He kisses her softly, then nudges her forward until she’s standing between them, bodies pressed tightly around her, a warm embrace.

Everything settles into place, if just for a moment, and they’re all happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're time warping 6 months forward next chapter!


	8. Time and Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy's life is a mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is definitely not a happy one. But what's Captain America fic without a little angst?
> 
> Trigger Warning for mentions of blood in the second to last paragraph.

_November 1945_

* * *

 

The first thing Peggy does when she wakes up is to reach to her left, still surprised at the absence of anybody there. It sends a twist of sadness through her, but she stretches, and ignores the feeling. She dresses quickly, not really paying attention to what she’s wearing other than that it’s not stripes and spots. Shoes on, jacket pulled tight around her against the late Fall chill, and hat firmly on her head, she leaves the apartment she shares with a woman named Liz. Liz works the night shift, and Peggy almost never sees her.

She walks quickly to the diner just down the block from her building, and settles into her usual booth. The waitress, a woman named Angie, comes up with a cup of coffee, and sets it in front of her.

“Rough night?” she asks.

Peggy nods, “I’m getting incredibly tired of being alone.”

“That fella that comes in every morning to eat with you?” Angie asks.

Peggy looks around, “I’m engaged to his best friend, but something got hung up in immigration, and they won’t give us a license.”

“Oh, well that’s just stupid,” Angie says.

“I whole heartedly agree,” Peggy says, stirring cream and sugar into her coffee. She misses tea sometimes, but Angie brews a mean pot of coffee.

“Where do you live, anyway?” Angie asks.

“The building just down the street. Unfortunately, my roommate is getting married this weekend, and has told me in no uncertain terms that I’m to be gone by Monday,” Peggy mutters darkly into her coffee.

“You know,” Angie says, but whatever she was going to say is interrupted by her boss telling her to get back to work. “We’ll talk later,” she says, then bustles away.

Peggy sips her coffee quietly for a moment until the bench across from her is occupied. Bucky’s hair is a mess, he missed a few spots shaving, and there are dark circles under his eyes.

“Nightmares again?” Peggy asks.

“Both of us this time,” he sighs heavily. “It…doesn’t… It doesn’t happen as much when you’re there.”

Peggy scrubs her hand across her face. “I…” she starts, sighs, then tries again, “I want… I need… I really hate bureaucracy.”

Bucky laughs with little mirth. “Don’t we all.”

Angie brings a cup of coffee for him, and two plates with waffles, eggs, and sausage. “Peggy,” she says, setting them down, “When do you get off work?”

“Six, usually,” Peggy says. “Why?”

“There’s an opening in the building I live in, if you’re interested. I could take you to meet Mrs. Fry,” Angie says.

“Liz finally kicking you out?” Bucky says.

“I’d appreciate that, Angie,” Peggy says. “I can meet you here at six thirty if that’s convenient.”

“I get off at seven,” Angie says. “I’ll be sure to save you a slice of pie.”

“Thanks, Angie,” Peggy says, a genuine smile crossing her face for the first time in a few weeks.

Angie smiles back, and then walks away to take care of another customer. Peggy and Bucky talk about nothings for a while, then she checks her watch and realizes she’s going to be late if she doesn’t run. He bids her farewell, holding her hand longer than is proper, and they both know it’s a poor substitute for the kiss they’re imagining.

“Give Steve one for me,” she murmurs.

“Of course,” he says.

 

* * *

 

Peggy sits down at her desk and regards the stack of papers with disgust. She was a spy, for Christ’s sake, not a secretary. But apparently being a woman gave her better typing skills than any of the men here. Typing wasn’t even one of her strong suits. She did it anyway, because the other option was to not work in the SSR, and that wasn’t an option.

Normally, she ignored the men speaking in the office, instead focusing on the paper in front of her, but when she hears the words “Steve Rogers is missing” come out of the Chief’s mouth, her head snaps up.

Everyone in the office is looking at her.

“How and when?” she asks.

“He was supposed to show up for a briefing an hour ago, and he didn’t. The apartment is empty, and no one seems to know where he went. Did he say anything to you?” Chief Dooley asks.

“No, sir,” she says.

“Then until we get further information, we’re going to assume that he has been captured by enemy forces,” Dooley says. “Thompson, Greer, Mason, I want you three to find out where he’s been today. Sousa, I want you to call the local precincts and ask them if they’ve seen anything. Hollis, you’re on hospitals. And Carter. Stay here. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“But, sir…” Peggy starts.

“Not now, Carter,” Dooley cuts her off.

“Yes, sir,” she grates out.

“Good,” Dooley says. “I’m going to talk to the higher ups. I really don’t want to have to explain how we lost Captain America, so you boys had better find him.” Everyone hesitates for a moment. “GO!” he shouts, and the room explodes into action.

The bullpen empties quickly, men going out on their assigned tasks. Daniel Sousa yells angrily into the phone. Peggy sits motionless for a moment, waiting for no one to be watching her, then makes her escape.

“Hey, where are you going?” Sousa yells after her.

She turns back to look at him over her shoulder, “After Steve. Are you going to stop me?”

Sousa sighs. “No, but do be careful. If you get killed, Dooley’ll have my hide,” he says.

She nods, and walks briskly down the hall. Once outside, she hails a cab, and tells him to head for Stark Industries.

 

* * *

 

“ _What_?” Bucky says.

“Steve’s missing,” Peggy says. “Dooley sent three men after him, but I have some doubt in their abilities.”

“What do you need?” Howard Stark asks immediately.

“Help,” Peggy says. “Anything you can give me.”

Howard scratches his chin for a moment, “I’ve been working on a few things, but I think I have something that might work.” He opens a drawer in his desk, and pulls out a small rectangle.

“What is it?” Peggy asks.

“It detects vibranium,” Howard says. “That is, assuming he had his shield with him…”

“He had it when he left this morning,” Bucky says, the plates of his left hand shifting with the tension that’s practically vibrating the rest of him.

“Any idea where we might start?” Howard asks.

“None,” Peggy says.

“Then we have a long day ahead of us,” Howard sighs.

 

* * *

 

They search for nearly five hours before Howard’s device gets a ping. They’re in the docks of Brooklyn, not necessarily the best place to be in the quickly darkening twilight hours.

“What now?” Peggy asks him.

“It’s saying the shield’s over there,” Howard says, pointing.

They walk over to a warehouse, and finding the door padlocked, Peggy pulls her pistol out and prepares to shoot it, but Bucky beats her to the chase and yanks it off with his metal hand.

“Useful, that,” Peggy says.

“Want one?” Howard asks her.

“No, I think I’ll just keep James around,” she replies.

“Well, I’m good for something,” Bucky says.

Suddenly, Howard’s machine starts going haywire, and they all turn to look at it.

“That’s not good,” Howard says. “Give me a minute, and I’ll see if I can fix it.” He squats down and pries the casing off.

Peggy turns to Bucky. “I’m worried,” she says quietly.

“So am I,” he replies.

“What if…” she says, eyes lowering.

“No, Peggy,” he interrupts, tucking his right hand under her chin and pulling it up. “Don’t do that. ‘What if’ doesn’t do anyone any good.”

She sighs, closes her eyes, then opens them again. “I just can’t stop thinking about how horrible this could turn out.”

“I know. And you _have_ to stop that,” he says. “Pessimism is one of Steve’s worse qualities. And you have it in spades.”

Peggy shakes her head, “I prefer to think of it as pragmatism.”

“Hmm,” Bucky says noncommittally.

“Kiss me,” she says suddenly.

“Here?” Bucky asks.

“Here,” Peggy says.

So he does, reaching his arm around her back and pressing his mouth to hers softly. She scrabbles at his hair, trying not to let her fear show.

“I know,” he says, lips a fraction of an inch from hers. He kisses her forehead, then steps back.

Howard is staring at them, his jaw dropped, and a very confused expression on his face. “That… that was a thing that just happened…” he says.

“Yes,” Peggy says. “It was.”

“Does this mean I get to kiss you too?” Howard asks.

Peggy rolls her eyes, “No, Howard.”

“Oh,” he says. “Just checking. But the two of you…”

“The three of us, actually,” Bucky says.

“You, Peggy, and Cap,” Howard says.

“Yes,” Peggy says. “Did you fix the device?”

“Wow. That’s… different,” Howard says. “What? Yes. Yes, it’s fine now.”

They go down the hall, and Howard indicates a room to the left.

The sight that greets them takes Peggy’s breath away. Five men lie dead on the floor, their blood congealing in the drain in the center of the room. Furniture is overturned and broken.

And there is a shield lodged in the metal wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;)


	9. In A Dumpster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cat's out of the bag, and Peggy gets a letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rude endings are my specialty. I do not apologize at all for the end of last chapter.

“Jesus Christ, what happened here?” Howard muttered under his breath.

Bucky absently stepped over the bodies as he went to the shield, and with his left hand, yanked it out of the wall.

“Nothing good,” Peggy says.

“We have to find him,” Bucky says.

“And how do you propose to do that?” Howard asks. “The only thing we had to find him is in your hand.”

Bucky sighs, and looks out the door into the hall. “I’ve known Steve since I was six,” he says. “And since then, I’ve always had this gut feeling when something was wrong with him. But since the serum, it’s gone. Until this morning.”

“And so…” Howard says.

“Look,” Bucky says. “I’m not saying it’s a magical connection or anythin’, but would you believe me if I said I think he’s just a few rooms away?”

“It’s better than anything we’ve got now,” Howard says. “Which way?”

Bucky points, and they hurry out of the room. Around the corner, muffled noises can be heard, loud swearing in a language that’s not English.

“Germans,” Peggy hisses.

“Are you sure?” Howard asks.

“They’re German,” Bucky supplies. “And they’re not happy. Something about a late shipment.”

They both look at him with a puzzled expression.

“You speak German?” Peggy asks him.

“I can understand some. You pick up a lot when you’re strapped to a table for long periods of time,” Bucky says, then something catches his attention. “They’re waiting for instructions.”

“What are we going to do?” Howard asks.

“Mr. Barnes,” Peggy says. “Might you have an interest in storming a castle?”

“With pleasure, ma’am,” Bucky says. He hefts the shield onto his left arm, and pulls the pistol out of the holster strapped to his back.

“Stay here,” Peggy orders Howard. “Unless you want to get shot.” She nods to Bucky, and they slowly make their way down the corridor until they reach the room where the shouting is the loudest.

He kicks open the door, and they’re glad of the shield as the action is met with a hailstorm of bullets. Peggy stands directly behind Bucky and fires from the cover of the shield and his body. Soon they both run out of ammo, but so have the Germans.

Bucky flings the shield inelegantly toward a pair of men, and it hits one of them squarely in the chest. Then he grabs the other man and starts beating him into the desk. The remaining man looks her up and down, and Peggy can hear the “I ain’t gonna hit a girl” running through his head, so she takes advantage of it, kneeing him squarely in the groin. As he bends over, she breaks a chair over his head, and stomps on his instep, her heels connecting with the tender flesh of his foot. He falls down, insensible, and she turns to look at Bucky. Blood streams down his face from a broken nose, but the other guy looks like he’s been through a meat grinder.

“Any others?” she asks.

He quickly walks to the tiny room’s closet, and opens it. He leaps back as a large bag falls out and starts writhing. It rolls toward him, and he takes a few leaps backward.

“You don’t think…” Peggy says.

“A big bag?” Bucky replies.

At the sound of their voices, the bag stops wriggling for a moment, then starts flopping aggressively toward them. Peggy sees a zipper running across the length with a padlock on it to keep it shut. When the back connects with Bucky’s shins, he reaches down and yanks on the padlock, but the fabric just goes with it, and it doesn’t break.

“Well that’s not going to work,” Peggy says.

“Hand me the shield,” Bucky replies.

She does, and he places the padlock against the concrete floor, then slams the shield into it, edge first. The lock splits in half, and shoots across the room in opposite directions. Peggy leaps forward, and yanks the zipper down, cursing as it sticks on the strong metal of the teeth. Eventually she gets it open, and they both pull the bag free of its occupant. He lies face down on the floor for a moment before flipping onto his back.

His wrists and ankles are bound together with substantial metal cuffs, and a nasty looking rag is stuffed in his mouth. She reaches down delicately, and extracts it with her fingernails before tossing it away. Rapidly healing bruises bloom green and yellow across his face as he makes vain attempts to get the taste of the gag out.

“Keys?” she asks, and he shakes his head.

When she looks up to ask Bucky, he’s gone. Before she can shout after him, he returns with Howard.

“Can you open them?” she asks without preamble.

“I can try,” he says, pulling something out of his pocket, and kneeling next to Steve.

“Nice to see you, Howard,” Steve says conversationally.

“You too, Cap,” Howard says.

“How the hell did this happen?” Bucky asks.

Howard springs the lock on his wrists, and Steve rubs his hands together in an attempt to revive circulation. “I got a message this morning that said the briefing was going to take place down here,” he says. “I thought it was odd, but it looked official, so I came. Then all these men jumped me, and somehow got that godawful bag over me. I couldn’t rip it, and then one of them stuck me with something. I blacked out, and woke up bound and gagged with these idiots yelling in German.”

“Speaking of idiots, what are we going to do with them?” Howard asks. “Can’t drag them back to the SSR like this.”

“Tie ‘em up,” Bucky says. “Let’s go back and let other people deal with them. I’ve had quite enough of them for one day.”

Steve’s feet are finally freed, and he stands up, getting his first good look at Bucky. “Jesus Christ, Buck,” he says.

“What?” Bucky asks.

“Your nose,” Steve says.

“Oh, that,” Bucky says.

“Come here,” Steve says, taking a step towards the other man.

Bucky stands in front of him, trying not to move as Steve pulls his nose back into place.

“How did you know how to do that?” Peggy asks.

“Not the first time I’ve done it,” Steve replies. “Ma taught me after the second time she had to do it.”

“Most of those were your fault,” Bucky shoots back.

“Yes they were,” Steve says.

 

* * *

 

The SSR bullpen is still bubbling with activity when Peggy leads her motley crew in. No one notices them at first, as all attention is riveted on Dooley standing in the middle of the room, shouting a blue streak at Thompson and the other agents who went out with him.

“-found _in a dumpster_. The SSR is supposed to be the pride of the Army. And you ladies get thrown in a _dumpster._ What do you have to say for yourselves?” he roars.

“Sir,” Sousa tries to interrupt, having noticed Peggy’s entrance.

“You wait a goddamn minute, Sousa. I’ll get to you,” Dooley growls.

“Sir, it’s just that…” he tries again.

“What?” Dooley says, turning on him with a face purple with rage.

“Sir,” Peggy says. “I believe he is trying draw your attention to me.”

“ _You!_ ” Dooley says. “I told you to _stay put_.”

“Sir, with all due respect, I was never going to listen to you on that. It’s hardly Agent Sousa’s fault that I left. He attempted to stop me, but I left of my own free will. And, if I may say, far more successfully than Agent Thompson and his team,” she says, stepping aside to let Steve into the room.

Everyone stares for a split second before the room erupts into chaos.

Nearly an hour later, Peggy, Steve, Bucky, and Howard are lodged in Dooley’s office, making their report. After Steve finishes recounting how he was taken, Dooley covers his face with his hands.

“That story is so absurd that it has to be true. I’ll send men to get the Germans shortly. For now…” he says, shaking his head, “just go home, all of you. And Carter, I don’t want to see you tomorrow morning, understand?”

She cocks her head at him, but nods.

They walk out of the office, and Howard leaves immediately, something about “A pretty redhead he doesn’t want to stand up”.

Steve and Bucky make to leave, and Peggy gathers her coat to follow them, but Sousa grabs her wrist.

“I didn’t try to stop you,” he says lowly.

“You don’t get in trouble this way,” she replies at the same volume.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says. “Thank you.”

“You’re a good person, Daniel,” she replies. “I don’t want you to get in trouble for my brash decisions.”

He quirks a smile at that. “Any idea where Barnes got the arm?” he asks.

“From Howard, in exchange for working for Stark Industries,” Peggy replies.

“He giving out legs?” Sousa asks.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Peggy replies, turning to go.

“Oh, by the way, this came down from somewhere up above for you today,” Sousa says, proffering an envelope.

She takes it, thanks him, and leaves with Steve and Bucky. It’s now well after 10pm, and Peggy really doesn’t feel like being alone tonight, so she goes back to their apartment with them.

As soon as the door shuts behind Bucky, Steve has her pressed up against the wall, kissing her as if his life depends on it. Bucky pries him off, and kisses her in the same fashion, hissing when his nose comes into contact with her cheek. Then Steve seizes Bucky and pushes him into the wall as well. They nearly devour each other, and Peggy turns her attention to the envelope Sousa had handed her.

She slides her thumb under the flap, and extracts its contents.

_Ms. Carter and Mr. Rogers,_ it starts. _We are pleased to inform you that your application for an international marriage license has been approved. You should find it enclosed. It is effective starting June 1, 1946 and expires August 1, 1946. If you are not married by this date, you must reapply. Please note that this license must be signed in the State of New York to be valid._

_If you have any further concerns, please contact me._

_Best wishes and good luck,_

_Susan McAuliffe_

She reads it quickly, then flips to the other page, which is indeed a marriage license. She can’t restrain the gleeful giggles that spill out of her at the names printed on the license, _Margaret Eva Carter_ and _Steven Grant Rogers_.

At the noise coming out of her mouth, Steve and Bucky look at her quizzically. She proffers the letter, and both of their faces light up.

“It’s about damn time,” Steve mutters, pulling them both into his chest.

“But why isn’t it valid for almost seven months?” Bucky asks.

Peggy looks up at Steve, who is staring at the ceiling. She sighs heavily, then explains to Bucky, “Steve pissed off a great many people during the war. This is one of them getting back at us. I’m surprised it came this quick. I was expecting to wait at least a year.”

“But now we can set a date,” Steve says.

“A summer wedding it is,” Peggy says.

“That still doesn’t solve the problem of Liz kicking you out,” Bucky says.

“Actually, Angie from the Automat said she’d introduce me to her landlady. I guess I stood her up,” Peggy says, grimacing.

“I’ll apologize with you in the morning,” Bucky says. “For now, let’s just go to bed. It’s been a long day… and it’s been a while since you’ve been here.”

Peggy smiles after him as he drags her toward the bedroom, Steve trailing.

A long day indeed.


	10. Going Down Swinging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rampant homophobia and misogyny leads to ass kicking. (By one Margaret Eva Carter.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is so much homophobic language (fairy and dyke specifically) and sentiment in this chapter, it's ridiculous. But the nasty guys get the shit beat out of them by Peggy. There is also non-graphic blood and other wounding in this chapter. 
> 
> And also the return of Becca Barnes! (And Louisa, Bucky's Italian grandmother. For a visual, picture Sophia from the Golden Girls.)

“I’ve decided I’m not going into work today,” Peggy says, facedown in a pillow.

“Neither am I,” Bucky says from her right.

She flops her head around to look at him. The late autumn light slants across his face, bringing out the true chestnut hue of his hair, which is sticking up rather adorably.

“Steve went to the boxing gym this morning,” she says. “He left a note.”

“He was never a morning person before the serum,” Bucky says. “But then, neither was I…”

“What?” Peggy asks.

“Nothin’,” Bucky says. “Breakfast?”

They’re eating breakfast when a sudden ruckus shakes the front door. They glance at each other, then Peggy reaches for her purse, which has her still-loaded pistol in it while Bucky goes to open the door. He cracks it just enough to pull the chain taut, and gasps, slams it shut, yanks the chain out of its track, and flings the door open. The person outside tumbles into his arms, and he carries them to the couch.

Peggy abandons her purse, and hurries to shut the door, then turns to see Bucky’s ashen face looking up at her.

“It’s Georgia,” he says, voice cracking.

“Buck,” says the body on the couch. “Wendy…”

“Who did this to you, Georgie?” he asks.

Peggy comes around the arm of the couch and tries not to gasp at the sight of Georgia’s battered face.

“Donnie…Merrick,” Georgia gets out.

Bucky’s face takes a hard line.

“Donnie Merrick’s the bastard who almost killed Steve once because he said he looked too much like a fairy,” he explains to Peggy.

“Buck,” Georgia says urgently. “Wendy’s still…out…”

“Where?” Peggy asks immediately.

“Glass Dolphin,” Georgia replies.

“It’s a brothel,” Bucky says. “Two blocks away.”

“I’ll go get her,” Peggy says, turning to put clothes on.

Five minutes later, she’s walking down the street in the direction of the Glass Dolphin when a young woman stumbles out of an alleyway, blood fountaining from her nose, staining the front of her blouse.

“You want to fuck a broad like you’re a man?” a voice shouts after her. “Then you’re gonna learn to take a beating like a man.”

The woman runs straight into Peggy, who catches her and steadies her.

“Are you Wendy?” she asks, and at the woman’s nod, she leads her to the wall. “Stay here,” she instructs, then takes a bracing breath, and marches into the alley, chin up.

“You come back for more?” a man with greasy hair taunts. “Oh, there’s another one! You’re too pretty to be a dyke. Do you need a _real_ man to show you how good it can be?”

“Hardly,” Peggy says.

“Oh, aren’t _you_ posh?” the man says. “Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahdly,” he says to his cronies in an exaggerated version of Peggy’s accent. The three other men laugh harshly.

Peggy ignores the comments. “And you freely admit that you assaulted two women today?” she asks.

“They’re dykes, and they had it comin’,” he says.

“Hardly,” Peggy repeats, then without warning, shakes the billystick she has concealed in her sleeve free, and hits the man on her left directly in the stomach.

He buckles over, and she whirls to smack the next man in the knee, followed by a kick to the leader’s groin. He stumbles back, and her blow doesn’t connect. He grabs her by the wrist, so she drops the club into her free hand and smashes the butt of it down onto his thumb. He screams in pain and jumps away just in time for Peggy to drop her heel into the fourth man’s foot. The leader comes back for another round, and just as Peggy brings her club up to hit him in the jaw, he faints away before her.

Beyond him, Steve stands, his fist still raised, a concerned expression on his face.

“I had him,” Peggy says.

“I know,” Steve replies. “Now would you like to tell me what the hell you’re doing?”

“Not here,” Peggy says, looking around at the groaning men on the ground. “Did you see Wendy?”

“The girl in the blue skirt?” Steve asks. At Peggy’s nod, “She’s sitting on the curb.”

Peggy hurries back to her, Steve close behind. She kneels down next to the woman, girl really, and takes her chin in her hand. “I’m Peggy, this is Steve,” she says. “We’re Georgia’s brother’s friends. Will you let us take you to her?”

Wendy nods mutely.

“Can you walk?” Peggy asks.

“They hit me in the ankle,” Wendy says with a shake of her head.

“Is it all right if I carry you?” Steve asks.

Wendy nods, then says, “Is Georgia…”

“I don’t know,” Peggy says. “She was conscious when I left.”

Steve slides a hand gently under Wendy’s knees and shoulders and lifts her effortlessly.

“My purse,” Wendy says.

“I’ll get it,” Peggy says, and returns to the alley. There are two handbags dumped on the ground next to a dumpster, so Peggy scoops them both up, shoving spilled items randomly, and hurries back to Steve. “Let’s go,” she says.

A few moments later, they arrive back at the apartment, and Peggy finds the door locked. She hadn’t taken her key with her, so she knocks.

Bucky cracks the door, and peers out balefully, blue-grey eyes gone steely.

“We got Wendy,” she says.

“We?” he asks, and she steps aside to let Steve come forward. Bucky shuts the door, unhooks the chain, and opens it. Steve and Peggy step inside.

Peggy drags a chair in from the kitchen, and Steve gently deposits Wendy on it. She immediately reaches for Georgia’s hand.

“What the hell?” Steve asks finally.

“Donnie Merrick found out about Georgia and Wendy,” Bucky says.

“You two are together,” Steve says to Wendy, as Georgia is currently only semi-conscious.

“We are,” Wendy says defensively.

Steve sighs heavily. “I shoulda hit him harder.”

“I am certain you will have another opportunity,” Peggy says primly.

Another knock sounds at the door and everyone but Bucky jumps.

“Expecting someone?” Steve asks.

“Bucky, you let us in right now,” a voice shouts from the hall.

“You called Becca?” Steve asks.

“I did. Would you let her in?” Bucky says, handing Peggy a wet rag. She starts wiping the blood off Wendy’s face.

Rebecca Barnes bustles into the room, and squats down next to Georgia. “How long?” she asks.

“Half an hour or so,” Bucky says.

“Mrs. Fiore?” Steve says from the doorway.

“Yes, Steven, hello,” a woman says in a strong Italian accent.

“Grandma?” Bucky says, looking up.

“Nice to see you, too, James,” she says. “You’re Wendy?”

Wendy nods, and Mrs. Fiore tucks a hand under her chin, tilting her eyes up into the light. “How do you feel?” she asks.

“Dizzy, cold,” Wendy says. Steve quickly hands her the blanket from the back of the couch.

“Rebecca, get Wendy some water,” Mrs. Fiore says. “James, what happened to the men who did this?”

“I took care of them,” Peggy says.

“English!” she says. “You’re Steven’s fiancée?”

“Peggy Carter, ma’am,” Peggy says.

“Louisa Fiore,” she says. “How did you take care of them?”

“This,” Peggy says, holding up the billystick.

“Very direct,” she says.

“Mrs. Fiore,” Steve says.

“I’ve told you before, Steven, call me Louisa,” she says.

“Mrs… Louisa,” Steve says. “Are they going to…”

“Georgia needs food and a good long nap,” Louisa says. “She’s going to have some spectacular bruises in the morning, but nothing permanent. I do need to set Wendy’s ankle, but nothing permanent…physically.”

A few hours later, they’re all sitting at the table, some chairs improvised, and if Peggy is actually sitting on Steve’s lap, no one comments on it. Georgia is working her way through a turkey sandwich, and Wendy appears to be attempting to stay awake.

“Grandma,” Georgia says. “Are you all right with me and Wendy being…”

“Oh, Georgia,” Louisa says. “It’s hardly shocking. Girls who like girls have been around for a very long time. Maybe one day it’ll be acceptable... But for now, as long as you two are happy, I’m happy for you.”

The talk turns to more mundane things, and Wendy quietly falls asleep on Georgia’s shoulder.

“So, Margaret,” Louisa says in a moment of silence. “How do you like Brooklyn?”

It takes Peggy a moment to realize that Louisa is speaking to her. No one has called her Margaret since her maternal grandmother had died when Peggy was eleven. “It’s certainly never boring,” she replies. “In all honesty, I love it here. For several reasons,” she says, looking at Bucky while she does, and giving Steve’s hand a squeeze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't take any of Louisa's medical advice. I have no idea if it's accurate or not. And no, she herself isn't a lesbian.


	11. Relationships and Feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are only five characters in this chapter, and two of them are men.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's another one at the end... sorry.

Steve and Bucky have left to take Georgia and Wendy back to Louisa’s house with her. Rebecca has stayed behind, and is sitting on the couch with Peggy.

“I know we just ate, but I’m still hungry,” Rebecca says. “Want to go somewhere?”

“I know a diner a few blocks away,” Peggy says. She senses that the girl has something she wants to talk about, but not where they might be overheard by a suddenly returning Steve or Bucky.

They arrive at the Automat a little while later, and Peggy takes her customary booth. Angie walks up with a pad of paper in her hands and a sour look on her face.

“What’ll it be?” she asks curtly.

“Coffee and a piece of pie for me,” Rebecca says.

“Just coffee for me,” Peggy says. “Rebecca, would you mind if I talk to Angie for a few minutes?”

Rebecca looks to Angie, then back to Peggy, shakes her head, and walks over to the wall to examine the pies.

“You stood me up last night, English,” Angie says.

“I’m sorry for that. My fiancé got tied up at work and I had to help him get out,” Peggy says contritely.

“Just what does this man do for a job?” Angie asks, her usual friendly demeanor returning as curiosity overcomes anger.

“He does special work for the Army,” Peggy says.

“Like taking out assassins?” Angie asks.

“Something like that,” Peggy says.

“It sounds like your fiancé is Captain America,” Angie jokes.

“So, you’re Angie?” Rebecca interrupts smoothly, to cover Peggy’s jerk of surprise. “Peggy’s told me about you.”

“Rebecca, is it?” Angie asks.

“Becca, please. Only Peggy and my mother call me Rebecca,” Rebecca says.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Angie says. “I’ll be right back with those coffees.”

After Angie is out of earshot, Peggy says, “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Rebecca replies.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, Rebecca chewing thoughtfully on her cherry pie. Angie returns with the coffee, and then her manager yells at her from the kitchen.

“So what is this about?” Peggy finally asks.

“Are you aware that Steve and Bucky are in love with each other?” Rebecca asks calmly.

Peggy chokes on her coffee, and nearly spits it all over the girl.

“What?” she finally gets out.

“They’ve been in love for years,” Rebecca says. “None of the girls ever looked at Steve when he was skinny, but I saw Bucky stare at him sometimes, like he was the only sunshine left in the world.”

“Oh, _that_ ,” Peggy says, finding it remarkably hard to lie to the girl. “Yes, I know what you mean. But I hardly think that means they’re in _love_ with each other.”

Rebecca gives her a penetrating look, then takes a sip of her coffee. “I don’t believe you,” she says.

“I know,” Peggy says.

Rebecca sighs, “All right.”

Peggy blinks at her, then downs the rest of her coffee.

Angie comes back then, blissfully ignorant to the tension at the table, “So, Peggy,” she says. “I called Mrs. Fry, and she says that if you can come right now, she’s interested in interviewing you.”

“I have nothing to do for the rest of the day,” Peggy says. “If you don’t mind, Rebecca…”

“No, it’s fine,” Rebecca says, still giving Peggy a less-than-pleasant look.

“All right. I’m getting off early today, so let me go get my purse, and we’ll go,” Angie says.

They leave the diner and Rebecca heads back in the direction of her parents’ house. Angie and Peggy head for the Griffith.

“So what was that about?” Angie asks.

“With Rebecca?” Peggy says. “She’s my fiancé’s friend’s sister… really it’s complicated.”

“And you don’t want to talk about it,” Angie says.

“No, not really,” Peggy says.

“All right,” Angie says. “You work at the phone company, right? Because that’s what I told Mrs. Fry.”

“Er, yes,” Peggy says.

“Also, don’t tell her you’re engaged. She doesn’t like long engagements,” Angie says. “Unless you’ve set a date…”

“Sometime in the summer,” Peggy says.

“Best not to tell her about it, then.”

The interview with Mrs. Fry goes by very quickly. Peggy finds her much easier to lie to than Rebecca.

A few hours later, she is moved in next door to Angie, sitting on her bed alone as the sun sets. She squints against the ochre glow, and sighs.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, she descends to find breakfast a scene of barely controlled chaos. She will later swear that she saw Franny from 4F stuffing seventeen biscuits into her purse. Angie sees her to the door of the diner, and then Peggy walks to the SSR office in record time. Despite the Griffith’s location, she can’t help but think that she’ll be glad to be out of there.

As she comes in, she looks around, waiting for someone to say something, but no one does. So she sits at her desk, picks up the file, and gets to work.

A few hours later, Dooley calls her into his office.

“The Germans spilled almost immediately,” he says. “They were hired by some person, and they genuinely don’t know who.”

“So the trail is cold?” Peggy asks.

“For now. I wouldn’t wait too long for someone to take another swipe at your fiancé. I understand congratulations are in order?” Dooley says.

“Thank you, sir,” Peggy says. “If I could ask a favor of you…”

“You don’t want me to tell them?” he asks, gesturing to the room outside.

“I fear it would make things awkward,” Peggy replies.

“I can do that, Carter,” Dooley says. “And truly, I am happy for you. Not many women in this organization can make a marriage work, and that’s why so many quit after the war. But I think you can. And, well, considering your choice in husband… I think you two will do just fine.”

“Thank you, again, sir,” Peggy says, feeling heat rush to her cheeks.

“You’re welcome. Now get back to work,” Dooley says.

 

* * *

 

_A few weeks later_

“Six days is starting to feel like six weeks,” Bucky remarks darkly over dinner. “I even asked Becca to come over tonight to play poker or something.

“You didn’t hear this from me,” Peggy says through a mouthful of mashed potatoes, “but six days is actually four.”

“Tonight?” Bucky asks.

“The plane left Frankfurt a few hours ago,” Peggy says.

“Have I ever told you that I love you?” Bucky asks, ripping a bun in half.

Peggy blinks. “No, actually.”

Bucky looks up at her from the butter. “Huh. I do, you know.”

Peggy smiles, chewing on her broccoli. “I know,” she says finally.

“You don’t, do you?” he asks.

“Love you?” Peggy replies. She thinks for a moment, then replies, “Not the same way I love Steve. Not yet anyway. I do like you a great deal, though.”

Bucky snorts, “Steve’s easy to love. You are, too. Birds of a feather, some bullshit like that. Me, I’m harder. I’ve got a lot of flaws and I’m more than a bit broken.”

“Everyone has flaws, James,” Peggy says. “Not many people could have survived what you did in Azzano and come out sane.”

Bucky stiffens, “How much do you know about Azzano?” he asks, his eyes narrowed.

“More than Steve does,” Peggy says. “I know why you were able to survive the fall from the train, why your bruises heal in days.”

“And you’ve never told Steve?” he asks.

Peggy shakes her head.

“Why?”

She shrugs, “I assumed that was your prerogative, not mine.”

They finish their meal in silence, then split the dishwashing. As she turns away to hang the towel on the stove handle, she is surprised by Bucky’s arms around her waist, lifting her and flinging her over his shoulder.

“You know,” she says casually, admiring the view of his bum, “If you were just about anyone else, I’d kick that fine arse of yours for this.”

“Like my ass, do you?” he asks, dumping her on the bed.

“I do indeed,” she says.

* * *

 

Neither of them hears the door open, footfalls, a horrified female gasp, and then rapid footfalls in the other direction. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And yes, that _is_ Becca.


	12. Moment of Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Becca goes postal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love me some Becca Barnes.

Dressed in not much more than one of Steve’s undershirts and a pair of mismatched socks, Peggy regards the contents of the refrigerator with contempt. It’s the day before Steve usually goes grocery shopping, and the most appetizing thing in the fridge is a half-eaten ham sandwich. She reaches for it, and is just closing the fridge when the front door slams open, knob punching a hole in the wall as it hits it violently.

She yelps and drops the plate, barely noticing that it doesn’t shatter when it hits the wood floor. She’s too busy being distracted by a very angry, very fast Rebecca Barnes. She scrambles back from the girl’s advance, but isn’t quick enough to avoid the slap that Rebecca delivers across her face.

“How _dare_ you?” Rebecca hisses.

“Becca, what the ever living fuck?” Bucky shouts, (thankfully wearing pants now), having erupted out of the bedroom at the sound of the door hitting the wall.

“And _you_ ,” Rebecca says in the same dangerous tone, rounding on her brother. “I trusted you. Both of you.” She marches up to him and delivers the same slap that left Peggy’s face stinging.

“Rebecca, what the hell are you doing?” Bucky barks.

“What am _I_ doing?” Rebecca says in a mocking tone of voice. “Oh, I don’t know. My brother invited me over here to spend the evening with him and his friend’s fiancée while said friend is away. And I come at the time he wanted. To find them _in bed_ together.”

“Rebecca,” Peggy says. “It’s not what you think.”

“Then what the fuck is it?” Rebecca asks, “Because it seemed pretty obvious to me what was happening.”

Peggy glances at Bucky, hoping for support, and he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “I’m not gonna deny that we were in bed together,” he says. “But it’s more complicated than that.”

“Than what?” Rebecca says. “Than sleeping with Steve’s fiancée? Life’s taken a lot of things from Steve Rogers. His father, his health, his mother, then his privacy and chance at a simple life. Through that all, you’ve always been there to support him. Of all the people in the world, I never expected that you would be the one to take the woman he loves from him. Especially since you love him.” Bucky opens his mouth to speak, but snaps it shut at Rebecca’s glare. “As for you, Peggy. I must say I’m surprised. All the women who were ever involved with Steve always left him the moment they met Bucky. I thought you were different, that you loved Steve for the person he was, and not just for what the Army did to him. But I’ve heard Bucky’s a good lay, so I’m not surprised that you picked him of all the people in Brooklyn you could’ve jumped into bed with.”

“Becca,” Bucky says, “It’s really not what you think. Steve knows about this.”

“Oh, _Steve knows about this_!” Rebecca says, a sickly sweet tone to her voice. “I’m not stupid enough to believe that, you bastard.”

“Rebecca,” Peggy says.

“Now I understand why you were so evasive when we went to the diner,” Rebecca says, turning back to stare daggers at Peggy. “Because you’re fucking both of them so you can’t have them getting too close to each other. That could jeopardize your relationship, and expose you for what you are.”

A sudden sound in the hallway turns all their heads toward the still open door. Steve steps into the room, dropping his duffle on the floor.

“Peggy, Bucky,” he says. “Are you all right? I heard shouting. Hi, Becca.”

He shuts the door, then stares at the hole the handle made.

“What’s going on?” he asks, dropping into his “Captain” voice.

“Well…” Bucky starts.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Rebecca interrupts.

“What?” Steve asks, worry creeping into the single word.

“Rebecca walked in on James and I in bed,” Peggy says before anyone else can say anything.

Steve stands silent for a moment, chewing on his lip, then says, “Well shit.”

“I’m going to go put some more clothes on,” Peggy says, practically running to the bedroom.

“I’ll come with you,” Steve says.

They shut the door to the bedroom, and he buries his face in his hands. “How bad is it?” he asks.

“She’s slapped us both,” Peggy says. “And said some very nasty things to James. But nothing I wouldn’t have expected out of her if what she thought she saw was true.”

“We have to tell her,” he says after a moment.

“Absolutely,” Peggy says. “But how?”

“Just come right out and say it?” Steve asks.

“That’s probably the best way,” Peggy agrees. “By the way, welcome home.”

Steve gives her a lopsided grin.

Dressed more respectably, they leave the room, and find Bucky and Rebecca sitting across the kitchen table from each other, glaring. Steve drops a shirt on Bucky’s head, and he pulls it on. Peggy sits down on a chair, while Steve stands behind her, a hand on her shoulder, and the other on Bucky’s.

“Rebecca,” Peggy says. “You were right that I was being evasive at the diner. But not for the reason you think. I am well aware that these two have been in love with each other since the dawn of time because I’ve heard them confess just that statement. Well, Steve at least.”

“You have?” Steve asks, surprised.

“You talk in your sleep, Stevie,” Bucky says.

“I do not,” Steve says.

“Oh yes you do,” Peggy replies. “‘Oh, Bucky, you’re so strong!’”

“‘Peggy, your hands are so soft!’” Bucky supplies.

“You two are making that up,” Steve says.

“What the hell is happening?” Rebecca asks.

“What you walked in on wasn’t an affair behind Steve’s back,” Peggy says.

“ _On_ my back sometimes,” Steve mutters. Bucky reaches up and smacks him on the back of the head.

“Bucky and you…” Rebecca says, eyes darting between them.

“Peggy, Bucky, and me,” Steve says.

“All three of you. Together. At the same time,” Rebecca says.

“Yes,” Bucky says simply.

“Oh,” Rebecca says, a blush rising on her cheeks. “How long…”

“Since the beginning,” Peggy says. “When Steve came back from the plane crash.”

“Then the first day you came home after the war?” Rebecca asks Bucky.

“Even then,” Bucky confirms.

“My Lord,” Rebecca says. “Everything makes so much more sense now.”

“It… does?” Bucky asks.

“Yes!” Rebecca says. “The way you and Steve behave around each other changed when you came back from the war. I figured it was something to do with the Captain America thing, but this makes much more sense.”

“Then you’re… okay with this?” Bucky asks.

“Oh my heavens, yes,” Rebecca says. “I thought you were doing something completely wrong to a person you love, and instead you’re in love with two people, and they love you back? Why would I have a problem with that?”

“The things you said…” Bucky says.

“If you _were_ having an affair behind Steve’s back, they would be absolutely true,” Rebecca says. “But they’re not, so you don’t have to worry about them. I am sorry about the hole in the wall…”

“All things considered, I think we can forgive that,” Peggy says.

“And I’m sorry I said you only were with Steve for his body,” Rebecca says. “I’m not apologizing to you, Bucky.”

“Why?” Bucky asks.

“I think you know why,” Rebecca says.

Bucky makes a face at her.

“You can understand why we haven’t told anyone,” Steve says.

“Oh, absolutely. And I won’t tell anyone. God only knows what would happen,” Rebecca says.

“Thank you,” Peggy says.

Rebecca nods, then yawns. She glances at the clock, then says, “I’m exhausted, if it’s all the same to you, I’ll go home now.”

“Do you want me to walk you home?” Steve asks.

“I… yes,” Rebecca says. “I would appreciate that.”

“Let me get a drink, and we’ll go,” Steve says, walking to the sink and filling a glass with water. He gulps it down, and offers his elbow to Rebecca.

“Bye,” she says to Peggy and Bucky. They say their goodbyes, and she and Steve leave.

Peggy heaves a sigh, looks over at Bucky, who shrugs, and puts his head on his arms. She rises, and goes into the bedroom, where she falls face first onto the bed. Bucky joins her a few moments later, and by the time Steve comes home, they’ve both dozed off. She wakes when he comes into the room, and looks at him in the soft glow of the bedside lamp.

“We’re going to have to talk about this tomorrow,” he says.

“But not tonight,” Peggy says.

“Not tonight,” Steve agrees. “By the way… why is there a sandwich on the kitchen floor?”


	13. A PR Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CAPTAIN AMERICA TO MARRY ARMY DAME!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lighter chapter. Something before, well, before the insanity of a wedding involving such characters as Peggy's aunt Maude who hates Yankees, the Howling Commandos, Rebecca Barnes, a very confused priest, and 4 year old Eleanor Carter.

_Early January 1946_

 

Peggy regards the pile of folders on her desk with contempt. Even if Dooley and some of the other agents respect her more now, she still gets stuck with the heaviest load of typing. Dooley says it’s because she’s the best typist in the New York SSR office, but she knows for a fact that Hollis is the best in the building. He also happens to be the best at some other task that is _far_ more manly than typing.

A few hours later, the pile is half gone, and Peggy goes to the conference room to drink a cup of coffee in peace. Dooley hasn’t asked her to take the lunch order yet today, but it’s not quite 11 yet, so there’s still time. She drops her head against the window, allowing the cool glass to take some of the heat out of her body.

“Carter,” Dooley calls from the doorway.

Peggy sighs silently, but turns to face the Chief. “Sir,” she says. “Do you need me to get the lunch order?”

“Not today,” he says. “I’m having Thompson do it.”

“I’m sure he will enjoy that,” Peggy says.

“I’m sure he will,” Dooley says. “There’s a man from Washington here to see you. He’s in the interrogation room.”

“Sir?” Peggy asks, masking the knot her stomach has become.

“I don’t know what it’s about, Carter,” Dooley says sympathetically.

“I… I’ll go speak to him, then, sir,” Peggy says.

“Good luck,” he says as she leaves.

The short walk down the hallway to the interrogation room seems like miles, the click of her heels on the tiled floor the last few grains of sand falling through an hourglass. She takes a deep breath, and pulls open the door.

The man inside looks up as she enters, and gives her a smile. “Ms. Carter,” he says. “Please, sit down. This might take a bit, and we’re waiting for… oh there you are.”

She turns to see who else is there, and is surprised to see Steve there, wearing half his Captain America uniform.

“Captain, if you would close the door,” the man says. Steve does as he asks, then takes a seat next to Peggy.

“I’m Terence Peters,” he introduces himself. “I’m the head of the SSR’s public relations department.”

“What is this about, Mr. Peters?” Steve asks.

“Captain America is getting married. It’s going to make national headlines, and we wanted to brief you both on how to best handle the public attention,” Peters says. “We’re planning on telling our pet journalists next week.”

“We haven’t even set a date yet,” Peggy says.

“We know,” Peters says. “I would urge you to do so by next Wednesday.”

Steve and Peggy exchange a glance.

“July 13,” he says.

Peters makes a note in his file, then continues, “Part of the problem with this is that Ms. Carter is a fairly anonymous figure, and it is in the best interest of your job to maintain a low figure. In addition, it isn’t general knowledge that Steven Rogers is Captain America. The way we intend to spin it is that Captain America, whose real name remains unpublished, is marrying a female Army member he met during the process of becoming Captain America. We will try to sensationalize Captain America even more than he already is. This is all in an effort to protect your privacy, you understand.”

“Thank you,” Peggy says.

“You have to know that we may not be able to maintain this forever,” Peters says. “But we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Until then, I would ask that you two not appear in public while Mr. Rogers is wearing the Captain America uniform. It will help separate the man from the myth. Also, don’t walk into your apartment wearing the uniform. Things like that.”

“I can do that,” Steve says.

“It also goes without saying that… and excuse my indelicacy, you should not be pregnant on your wedding day,” Peters says.

Peggy’s eyebrow rises, but she says, “We’ve managed to avoid it thus far.”

Peters’ face turns red at that, and he abruptly changes the subject, “That’s all I need from you, Ms. Carter. I have a few more things to discuss with Mr. Rogers, but if you have work to get back to...”

Peggy takes that for the dismissal it is, and rises, kisses Steve (with an admittedly overdramatic smack of the lips), and strides out of the room.

As she passes by Sousa’s desk, he catches her wrist. “Anything bad?” he asks.

“No,” Peggy says. “Bureaucracy. And public relations.”

“Ah,” he says, and then, “Can I ask your advice?”

“As long as it’s not on nuclear relations with the Soviets, yes,” Peggy replies, rather tired of the subject.

“I’m going out with this girl tonight,” he says. “Is it too much if I show up with a dozen red roses?”

“Is it your first date?” Peggy asks.

Sousa nods.

“Try carnations. Or daisies. Or both,” Peggy says. “They say ‘I’m here to take you out to a nice meal, then bring you home and kiss your hand at the end of the night.’ Roses on the first date say you want to come inside.”

“Oh,” Sousa says, color rising in his cheeks.

“If that’s all?” Peggy asks.

“Er, yes. Thank you,” he says, ducking his head back to his work.

She smirks as she returns to her desk, then sighs heavily. The pile of files has grown again.

 

* * *

 

_The next Thursday_

Peggy sits down at breakfast with Angie and the other women of the Griffith, and all anyone can talk about is yesterday’s headline.

_CAPTAIN AMERICA TO MARRY ARMY DAME!_ accompanied by a picture of Steve as Captain America and some blonde during the war. On second glance, Peggy recognizes Private Lorraine, the woman who had kissed Steve in the SSR bunker. He completely deserved the potshots she had taken at him. She tries not to be jealous, it’s only a picture, after all.

“Can you believe it?” Angie asks through a mouthful of hash. “They met in the middle of a battle. It’s so romantic.”

“I’m sure it’s not quite as dramatic as that,” Peggy says, pouring syrup on her pancakes.

“Oh you’re just taking all the fun out of it,” Angie says. She looks around then drops her voice, “You’re already getting married. Let the rest of us have hope.”

“There were probably fireworks and explosions,” Peggy says, her mouth quirking. She takes a few buns and shoves them in her purse.

“He must have saved her life from some evil, evil man,” Angie says.

“Or maybe she saved him,” Peggy mutters.

“She must have thought he was dead after he put the plane down in the Arctic,” Angie says. “I can’t imagine what that’s like.”

“It’s not pleasant,” Peggy says delicately. “And can lead you to do some dramatic things.”

“Did something happen to your fella during the war?” Angie asks.

“He got himself shot a few times, and then he was reported MIA,” Peggy says. “We had a date for the day he was supposed to get back. I showed up to the bar, and he came an hour late because he had to stop to get flowers.”

“That’s so romantic,” Angie says.

Peggy laughs. “I was completely plastered.”

“Peggy!” Angie says. “That’s so unlike you!”

“Like I said, you do some dramatic things,” Peggy says, finishing her coffee.

“You’ve never told me your fella’s name,” Angie says.

Peggy chews her bacon for far longer than is strictly necessary, then says “Steve. His name is Steve.”


	14. I Can See

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the future now. 
> 
> A solo mission leads to a glimpse of a future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually am sorry about this one. 
> 
> Also, [ Peggy's ring.](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/b3/39/b3/b339b39a78c327707902aa5c79977647.jpg)

“San Francisco?” Peggy asks. “Tonight?”

“Tonight, Agent Carter,” Chief Dooley confirms.

“When does the plane leave?” she asks.

“In about half an hour. There’s a car waiting to take you to the airport. I assume you have a go bag in your desk,” Dooley says.

“Yes, sir,” Peggy says.

An hour later, the plane is well on its way. She pulls clothes out of her bag, ones that are more suited to a mission. Pants and a matching shirt. Sturdy boots replace her usual heels.

From a small pouch, she extracts her dogtags. She hasn’t worn them since she came back from the War, but it seems the time to put them on.

_CARTER MARGARET E_

_O POS_

_ANGLICAN_

She snaps open the ball chain and pulls the ring off her left ring finger, slides it on to the chain, closes the catch, and puts the tags over her head and under her shirt. The ring was the same ring that Steve’s father had given his mother.

* * *

 

_“I want you to have this,” Steve said. “I know you said not to get you anything…”_

_“Steve, it’s beautiful,” Peggy said, turning the ring over in her hands. A gold band held a pair of small opals, a pair of diamonds, and a pair of pearls._

_“It was my grandmother’s,” he said. “She gave it to my father to give to my mother.”_

_Peggy looked up at him, blinking rapidly. “And you want me…”_

_“I want you to have it,” he said. “It’s not a traditional engagement ring…”_

_She laughed, “We’re hardly traditional.”_

_“You can say that again,” Bucky said, leaving the bathroom with his hair a dripping mess._

_He came up to where they were sitting on the couch, and took a seat on the coffee table._

_“Mind if I do the honors?” he asked._

_“Go right ahead,” Steve said._

_Peggy dropped the ring into Bucky’s outstretched palm, and he took her hand._

_“Peggy Carter,” he said, “will you marry us?”_

_“I believe I will,” Peggy said, and he slid the ring onto her finger._

_She kissed them both._

* * *

 

She dozes off somewhere over Indiana, and wakes when the plane comes to a bumpy landing in California.

“Agent Carter?” the pilot asks. “There’s a car waiting for you on the tarmac.”

“Thank you,” she says, and slings her bag over her shoulder as she exits the plane. A black sedan waits at the foot of the stair case, and a man in a suit holds the trunk open for her. She drops the bag into it, and gets into the back of the car.

A person is waiting in the back seat for her, and immediately hands her a folder. She opens it, and the first thing she sees is a picture of Johann Schmidt paper clipped to the front. Peggy looks up at the person who handed her the folder, her face a question. The man gestures for her to continue reading.

It’s a report on the battle that resulted in the _Valkyrie_ crashing in the Arctic. She’s seen this report before. She _wrote_ most of this report. But in the back are a few more pages, heavily redacted, that mostly seem to contain the words “Tesseract”, “ocean”, and “explosion”.

“Those pages are about Howard Stark’s findings in the Atlantic. After Captain Rogers came back, we sent Stark out to look for the _Valkyrie_ for several reasons. He found it, but he also found the cube that powered most of Hydra’s weapons. It was brought into a high security vault,” the man says.

“That’s the Tesseract,” Peggy says.

“It is,” the man confirms. “And now someone has stolen it. We are in the middle of a large shift in the organization of the SSR, a highly classified shift. The Tesseract was to be moved to an even more secure location, but the truck and its driver went missing on the way.”

“And you want me to find it,” Peggy says.

“We do indeed,” he says.

“Why me?” Peggy asks. “I’m sure you have competent agents on the West Coast.”

“We do,” the man says, “but we chose you for a reason I am not authorized to disclose.”

“What’s the mission status?” Peggy asks.

The man briefs her, and the car pulls up outside a warehouse. She retrieves her pistol from the bag in the trunk. As soon as the lid shuts, the car squeals away.

She steels herself, and pushes the warehouse door open. It’s dark inside, and she has to feel her way around crates and pallets. She enters a larger room, and the light is better here. The whole room has a blue cast, and the light is emitting from a cylinder in the middle of the room. A cylinder that contains the Tesseract.

Peggy scans the room, looking for any sign of movement, before she creeps forward, sticking to the wall. A sound from her left makes her jerk her head in that direction, and she sees the glow of a pair of eyes. They’re just a few inches off the floor, and then the rat scurries across the room. She sighs in relief.

Then the pain explodes in her thigh, and she stumbles back into the wall, scrabbling for support. A man approaches, his boots sounding ominous in the otherwise silent warehouse.

“So you are the best they could come up with?” he asks in a thick German accent.

He gets close enough for her to put her fist into his solar plexus, and he doubles over. She tries to run for the exit, but he grabs her wrist and slams her face first into the wall.

“You are not going to get away that easily, Agent. First you are going to tell us all that you know. Then, perhaps, we will see about… release…” he says.

Her vision goes blurry, and she feels her wrists being snapped into cuffs.

“Do not fight the darkness, Agent. It is inevitable,” he says.

The voice follows her under.

 

* * *

 

She wakes later, her head hurting abominably. She blinks, and there is golden sunlight filtering into the room. It glints off Steve’s hair, nearly the same color.

“…So I’m not going to be able to come see you for a while,” he is saying.

“What?” she asks, moving her hand to take his. Her eyes widen in horror at the sight. It is not her hand attached to her arm, but rather the hand of an old woman.

Steve sighs, and takes her hand in both of his. They’re so warm…

“Bucky’s not dead. He was captured by Hydra after he fell off the train. Now Sam, Natasha, and I are going to go find him and bring him home,” he says.

“But the Soviets found him…” Peggy says.

Steve closes his eyes like he’s been caused pain. “Peg, do you know what year it is?” he asks.

“1946,” she says.

“It’s 2014,” he says.

“Then how the hell do you still look like that?” she asks, trying to sit up.

He hurries to support her, her limbs shockingly weak.

“I was frozen for almost 70 years,” he says.

“But you came home from the _Valkyrie_ ,” Peggy says.

“Not until three years ago,” Steve says.

A woman hurries into the room, and fluffs the pillows up behind Peggy.

“What’s happened?” she asks Steve.

“I don’t know,” he says. “She thinks it’s 1946, and that I came back from the Valkyrie.”

“Aunt Peggy,” the woman says. “Do you know who I am?”

“No,” Peggy says.

“I’m Bridget,” she says. “Your great niece.”

“What the hell is happening?” Peggy asks.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Steve asks.

“I was on a mission, in a warehouse in San Francisco… they had the Tesseract,” Peggy says.

Bridget and Steve look at each other.

“That never happened,” Bridget says. “The Tesseract was found by Howard Stark while they were looking for Cap. It was transferred to the SSR, then to SHIELD, then the whole mess in New York happened…”

“What mess in New York?” Peggy asks.

“I’m… going to go get a doctor,” Bridget says.

“I’m sorry Peggy, but I have to go,” Steve says. “There are Hydra posts all around the world, and Bucky’s already got a two week head start. I’ll see you when I get back. Be well.” He rises, and kisses her on the forehead, then leaves.

Bridget returns with a doctor then, and leaves them alone.

“So, Agent,” he says, voice shockingly familiar. “This is where you will spend the rest of your days. No one will believe anything you say, and I believe that your prognosis is rather… short.”

She glares over at him, but the movement causes her to start coughing, and the world blacks out for a moment. In another instant, she sees blonde hair and blue eyes, and then the doctor’s face comes back into focus.

“I wish you well, Agent,” he says. Then he leaves the room, and she is alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really am sorry.

**Author's Note:**

> As always: [My Tumblr](http://fireflyslove.tumblr.com/)


End file.
